


Heir to the throne

by elly32



Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, F/M, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 41,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10055654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elly32/pseuds/elly32
Summary: AU! Queen Catherine of Aragon forced by the King makes a choice that will change the whole history!





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> A.N. Hello everyone! This story is completely AU- so consider yourself warned! It's also my 1 ever Tudors story:)
> 
> I've also changed characters age so they fit: Mary-16/17, Charles-30, Henry-35 Catherine-38
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own "The Tudors"
> 
> As always: I apologize for any and all mistakes in grammar and/or spelling I've made:)
> 
> BETAED BY Lady Eleanor Boleyn- Thank YOU!

Queen Catherine rubbed her forehead with a tired gesture. The battle she'd been fighting incessantly for close to a year had exhausted her. The loop had slowly been tightening around her. King Henry had started the procedure to divorce her weeks earlier. The Boleyn harlot was certainly already sharing his bed. Yes, she was still a queen, but only in name.

It was only a matter of time till Henry sent her away to some castle forgotten by both God and the people. Her beloved and once loving her husband was under the great influence of Anna Boleyn and her family, everyone who even dared to defend her rights suffered: in the best case by being dismissed from the court like Thomas Moore, at worst by confinement like Bishop Fisher.

With left her with only one open supporter she still could count on- the Spanish ambassador Eustace Chapuys, but his influences were limited. Catherine already knew that she was going to lose. She'd known it for weeks.

She could try fighting in the field, she knew that her loyal subjects would support her but she wasn't able to betray her king, to evoke civil war in her beloved England ; just the same way she'd not be able to look passively at Spanish armies defending her interests by pillaging and burning down English villages. She could not do it, and because of that she was condemned to failure, despite the fact that she was right; that she had been a wife of the king in God's eyes .

And now seemed that her continuous humiliation wasn't enough for the Boleyns. Now they wanted to humiliate and destroy Mary.

"My lady, ambassador Chapuys" Lady Elizabeth led the guest into the chamber.

"My lady" the ambassador bowed kissing her hand "you sent for me"

Catherine pointed him to the chair opposite, and when he sat passed him a sheet of paper .

"It's from His Majesty, it was delivered to me two hours ago" she explained

Chapuys eyes quickly ran through the list of names of English lords and he looked at her not understanding

" The King has decided to marry our daughter off and in his kindness he is allowing me to choose her husband, he even sent me a list of possible candidates. If I refuse to make a choice His Majesty declared that he'd make that decision on his own. I'm obliged to give him my answer tonight"

Catherine clenched her lips in order to stop herself from saying anything else , but the ambassador grasped it. Neither he nor the queen had to guess who had possibly suggested that idea to the king and drawn up the list of candidates. Anna Boleyn surely had enjoyed it.

"George Boleyn, Edward Seymour, Thomas Seymour, Henry Norris, William Howard' ambassador thought seriously. All those men were undoubtedly loyal toward the king, and none was worthy to marry the princess. Binding Mary with one of them guaranteed the king and his whore absolute obedience and power over Mary who would not be safe with any of them.

"Your highness did the king cut your choice to men named on this list?" Chapuys asked his thoughts racing. He was desperately looking for a way out. They had so little time.

"No, but Mary's husband is supposed to be an English nobleman who is obedient to king and supports his Great matter" Catherine presented the king's conditions to the Ambassador. "My daughter! The princess and the heir to the throne. The Pearl of his world" Catherine added bitterly "I won't answer him! I won't let him do it!"

" Your majesty" Chapuys protested frightened that she'd do such a thing " You can't do it. If you don't make a choice then the king will do it, and then princess Mary will be in constant danger trapped in a marriage with either Boleyn or Howard"

Catherine shivered in terror. She could not condemn her daughter to something like that but what could she do to prevent it?

"Your majesty" Chapuys begged "We both know that not one of the men on this list is a good choice. You must choose somebody else, somebody who would fulfil the conditions made by the king but at the same time would be an honourable enough man to care for and protect your daughter." The ambassador frowned " there must be at least one person on the court who would do that"

Lady Elizabeth's entry stopped their conversation.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty but the Duke of Suffolk is here."The queen's eyes soared toward ambassador's face requesting help.

Chapuys nodded slightly "You must make a decision my lady, for Princess Mary's sake." he stated getting up at the sight of Duke of Suffolk.

" Your Majesty" He took his leave observing the man standing before them. It was clear that Charles didn't like the task given to him by a king.

"Your majesty, excellency" Charles bowed hating himself for the part which he came to play in this farce. A sight of Boleyns being rife all over the court made him sick and the sadness prevailing in Queen Catherine's chambers and reflecting on her face agonized him.

And now he was supposed to be a witness as the favorite of his dead wife, young, barely 17 year old princess would be condemned to the bond with the man who would turn he life into hell. Truly King Henry's friendship came at a cost.

He waited until Chapuys left the chamber and then he addressed the queen "My lady, His Majesty King Henry sent me with the question as to whether you have made your choice."

The queen looked at the young man standing before her and proudly raised her head. Her pride demanded to answer him with haughty tone and send Henry with his list to hell but the ambassador had been right. There was no place for pride. Mary's fate depended on her decision.

George Boleyn and William Howard- brother and cousin of Anne Boleyn, she didn't bother to take those candidates into consideration.

Edward Seymour, Thomas Seymour- two very ambitious young men and Seymours. They were well known as rivals to both the Boleyns and the Howards, but those two were too ruthless, too greedy for power.

Henry Norris- the oldest of them, not too avid for power. Maybe he would do? Though no, too daft, too blindly obedient to the king. If the king ordered him to kill Mary he would perform the deed himself.

No, none of them would do. Mary needed a strong shoulder to lean on. Somebody who would meet conditions made by the king and at the same time be a man strong enough to oppose Henry when the time came There was only one man at court who seemed to fulfill all those conditions. Whom she could trust at least a little.

"Yes my lord, you can tell the king that I have made my choice." She glanced at him. Five years younger than her husband, he was his good friend, and for a short time he'd been the husband of her dear sister-in-law Margaret. She'd known him practically from the day she'd met Henry. He was a bit of a troublemaker, an adventurer, a womaniser but he was a loyal friend, a soldier. He wasn't a cruel man or a sadist. He had a gentleness written in his eyes. She made her decision.

" My lord please tell the king, that for a husband for our beloved daughter I'm choosing Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk" she announced with a resonant voice.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BETAED BY Lady Eleanor Boleyn- Thank YOU!

Charles stood frozen. He was sure that he'd misheard her. It was impossible. He had to have misheard her. There was no way that the Queen had just said his name.

"Your Majesty" Charles began, faltering over the words. "Please forgive me but I think I've misheard you. Did you just say my name?"

Queen Catherine nodded her head, confirming it.

"But it's..., but it's wrong! I wasn't even on the list" For what was probably the first time in his life Charles Brandon Duke of Suffolk didn't know what to say.

Strangely his protests only consolidated Catherine's thought that she had made the right decision.

"The Lords mentioned on the list were merely candidates suggested by my husband. But, in his grace, he let me make my choice myself." she explained uneventfully "The King only demanded that the man I choose was an English nobleman whose loyalty toward the Crown couldn't be questioned and.. " here she hesitated slightly at the words before taking a deep breath and continuing " and supporting all matters close to His Majesty's heart. I believe that Your Grace fulfils all those points."

"Your Majesty I beg you to reconsider your decision. I'm not an appropriate candidate for the husband of any woman, and surely not for a princess." He pleaded with her "Your Highness knows best that neither my character nor my previous behavior or reputation make me worthy of that honor. I am begging you, my Queen, to pick someone else. I'm sure that after some consideration you'll be able to find a more appropriate candidate."

Catherine shook her head getting up and approaching him.

"It's me who should be begging you" she declared „ I ask you to accept my decision" She smiled a sad smile. " You're right that I know you; both your faults and your virtues, but you are wrong in saying that I will find someone better."

"No your Majesty, You can't ask me to do it. If circumstances had been different you wouldn't have even considered it." Charles declared with determination. "...but if you refuse to accept my explanation I'll have no choice but to protest to the king himself! I'm nearly fifteen years older than the princess. She deserves better. "

"You will protest and then what will happen? She'll be married to either Boleyn or Howard. You say that she deserves better; that means you care for her welfare. That's more than any of them would." Catherine declared "Can you imagine the fate my daughter would be facing if she was married either to Boleyn or Howard, or even one of the Seymours?"

Charles flinched at the very thought. The Queen was right. In the shock evoked by her declaration he completely forgot about who the other possible candidates were.

"Charles" she stated gently, addressing him with his Christian name for the first time. "I wish to see my daughter safe and happy. I pray that she'll have a husband who will both respect and take care of her." She rested her hand on his shoulder. "You are correct in saying, that if circumstances had been different I would have thought about somebody else, a foreign prince most likely. But I can't defy the king's orders and my time is limited. I will be confident knowing that, whatever happens to me, Mary will be safe under your protection."

Charles looked at her, indecisive. He understood the reasons behind her decision. He grasped it all, and yet he hesitated. Was he ready to take on such a responsibility? Was he ready for such a step? A step which would certainly, in the long term, make him an enemy of Anne and her whole family?

The Queen anxiously watched his face waiting for his decision. She'd done all she could. Now it was up to him.

"If that's your will. I'll give King Henry your message." he bowed low, kissing her hand.

" Thank you" she said with gratitude. Now she could only hope that Henry wouldn't object.

Henry with predatory smile observed Anne dancing. Every move she made, every smile were designed to seduce and by God it worked. He couldn't wait till the day when she would fulfil her promises and give him a son.

His son. His heir. A Strong, powerful heir to the king of England.

Charles who appeared in the ballroom drew the King's attention from pleasurable musings about his future children. He summoned Brandon to himself with obvious curiosity.

At first, when, a few weeks ago, some of the lords had suggested Mary's marriage with a simple nobleman, he'd brushed the whole idea off with a wave of his hand. But with time, and Anne's, who had supported the idea, active persuasion, he'd regarded it as a solution to many future problems. Married to someone loyal to him Mary would be under his control, and not able to plot with her mother. Secondly, when his marriage with Catherine was declared null and void, rendering Mary a bastard, he wouldn't have to worry about her future.

"So, what news do you bring?" he asked impatiently.

Charles cleared his throat, a little frightened of the king's possible reaction. "My lord, the Queen has made her choice."

"And? Who did she choose?"

Charles hesitated slightly "Me" he answered simply.

King Henry's cup crashed against the floor with a loud bang and everyone fell silent, startled.

"What?" he asked shocked, but before Charles managed to respond the king sprang up from his chair. "Come with me." he ordered and almost ran out of the room leaving behind him a group of amazed courtiers.

"What was that?" Anne asked her brother.

"Apparently the queen sent her response."

Brother and sister exchanged satisfied smiles. Everything was going according to plan. The divorce of the royal couple was progressing smoothly. Soon Catherine would stop being a queen and her daughter would be pronounced a bastard. Wedded to one of the King's subjects Mary would have no choice but to recognize Anne's victory and bow to her.

Anne was one step closer to her dream, to becoming Queen of England.

"What are you trying to achieve, My Lady?" King Henry entered the Queen's chambers, furious "How dare you mock me?"

"Welcome, husband" Queen Catherine, pretending to be surprised by his sudden appearance, met him halfway, not showing her fear. " What brings you here so upset?"

"You dare to ask?" Harry shouted enraged by her calm demeanour." I'm showing you my good will and kindness in letting you choose Mary's husband and you decide to throw it in my face!"

"Dear husband, I don't understand. I'm deeply grateful for your kindness and I made my choice following your wishes." Catherine stood her ground.

" Charles? You want me to believe that you chose Charles? His name wasn't even on the list I gave you!" Harry noticed with fury.

"No, I admit, you didn't put the Duke of Suffolk's name on your list." Catherine confirmed in the sweetest tone she could muster. "However, he meets all the conditions you made and I'm convinced that he will be a perfect husband for our daughter." She directed her last words at Charles, who was standing quietly in the doorway.

"And what do you say about this Charles?" King Henry, remembering that they weren't alone, turned to his friend. "Are you willing to marry her?"

This was it. The moment when he had to make his decision. He could retreat, he could say no, that he wasn't willing to marry the Princess Mary. The king looked at him impatiently, the Queen imploringly.

"Your Majesty it would be both my honor and a great privilege to marry your daughter." He answered with an official tone.

Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't delude her. Hesitantly, they both looked at the King, waiting for his reaction.

Henry stood in silence for a moment. That was unexpected.

Charles loved him and he was loyal. He wouldn't necessarily have chosen him but he had to agree with Catherine on this one. Charles was a good choice for both himself and Mary.

"Congratulations my friend! You've just got yourself a wife!" he declared with a beam of a smile.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BETAED BY Lady Eleanor Boleyn- Thank YOU!

Princess Mary Tudor looked straight ahead with unseeing eyes, not noticing that the letter from her father the King had dropped from her numb fingers on the table.

She was to have a husband. In two days time, she was to be married. Married to the man she didn't know at all, the man much older from herself, the Duke of Suffolk. It was the King's will. She couldn't object.

Mary shuddered unconsciously. She was afraid.

She barely remembered the Duke of Suffolk from her younger years at court. She remembered him as a handsome man, close friends with her father, but that was all. She couldn't guess what kind of husband he was going to be. Whether he would let her see her mother, or whether he would trap her in their country manor, putting her aside till the day she died.

It would probably suit both the king and his harlot. Oh, Mary wasn't blind or deaf. She knew about „ King's great matter ". She knew about his plans of replacing her mother with Anne Boleyn.

Her mother. How she wished to see her, to seek her advice, to learn what she thought about king's idea.

"I see you've finished reading, Princess." Thomas Boleyn, the man who had brought her king's letter stated with a cunning smile.

Maria tightened her lips and raised her head proudly in spite of fear seizing her insides. That man sent shivers up her spine.

"His Majesty also told me to inform you that the nuptials would be held here, at Ludlow and neither he nor your mother would take part in the ceremony," Boleyn smirked with obvious satisfaction seeing her shocked expression, continuing "Nor will there be any banquet. Immediately after the ceremony you will leave this place and go with your husband"

Mary knew what Boleyn expected to see telling her about next humiliations she was going to endure. He wanted to witness her tears, flimsiness and lament.

He clearly forgot with whom he was dealing with. She was a princess, a daughter of King Henry of England and Queen Catherine. She would show neither fear nor weakness in the face of the enemy

"Thank you Lord Boleyn. Please tell his Majesty that I'm deeply grateful for his kindness and that everything will be held according to his wishes." she announced getting up and dismissing the hated aristocrat.

Boleyn mockingly bowed to her. "Of course...Princess." Mary stood proudly until the doors closed behind him.

"Princess?" Lady Salisbury, her old governess, came into the chamber, her face flushed. "I've received a letter from Mr Secretary. I'm so sorry"

"Lady Salisbury , please start making arrangements for my departure, and please take care of the chapel. It has to be cleared and prepared for my wedding ceremony." Mary interrupted giving short instructions and fighting with herself in order not to burst out crying.

She couldn't cry, it wasn't a time for tears. Princesses didn't cry when they learned about their futures. Princesses took it with dignity.

"And now, please leave me alone."

Lady Salisbury stood confused gazing into stoic face of the princess. The child she'd helped to raise was gone. In that moment Mary looked exactly like her mother. Proud, royal and beautiful, like the true princess she was.

"As you wish, princess. I'll take care of everything. "

Finally alone, Mary let her mask fall and sobbed.

The wedding day of a Princess of England should be a holiday for the country. It should be the most beautiful day of her life, and not a pure nightmare.

"Help me God" Mary pleaded, burying her face in her hands.

* * *

 

"That girl is stronger than I thought. I didn't give her enough credit." Thomas Boleyn's statement provoked a huff of displeasure from his daughter.

"As if it's of any significance! Soon Mary will be a nobody!" George smiled soothingly at his sister "We are close."

"We must get rid of Charles Brandon." Anne declared fiercely. "I've always known that he's our enemy! He proved it beyond any doubt when he agreed to marry Catherine's daughter! "

"Calm down!" her father scolded her. "Remember that you are not yet Queen. You must act cautiously! You can't attack those closest to the king without a reason!"

"I have the king's love and I can do what I want!" Anne objected.

She had enough of being cautious, of the slow carrying out of plans. She just wanted to be Henry's Queen!

George, seeing that his sister and father were about to start quarreling, swiftly intervened. "Father is right, Anne. Right now the most important thing is your trip to France." he reminded Anne "You must dazzle the French court. You can take care of Brandon and his wife later!"

Anne reluctantly agreed. The planned visit at King Francis's court was her first occasion to present herself as England's future queen. She'd already decided that there in her beloved France she would give in to King Henry's demands. Maybe they'd even conceive their son there.

* * *

 

Charles got off his horse and dusted his clothes. He was full of distaste and displeasure. Nothing was right. Nothing was the way it should have been. Today, a Princess of England was getting married, and yet hardly any of her loyal subjects knew about it.

Today was Mary Tudor's wedding day but not even her mother was allowed to be present, and her father preferred to spend this day with his lover preparing for their trip to France! Charles gave his horse to a random servant and went inside. He could only hope that at least his surprise would please his fiancée. God knew that she didn't have many reasons to be happy.

* * *

 

Queen Catherine was kneeling on the cold stone floor of the chapel, praying. Her heart and soul were with her daughter, while her lips repeated the words of the prayer. She forgot about everything else, even about her own fall and rejection. It was all unimportant.

"God, I beg you, give her strength. Let her fulfil her destiny and become a Queen." Catherine prayed incessantly "But if it is Your will to let my enemies win and deprive her of her legacy, then I beg you, let her be happy. Let her have her own children, let her find love. I will weather everything you choose to try me with, but I beg You, in Your mercy, spare my daughter. "


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BETAED BY Lady Eleanor Boleyn- Thank YOU!

"Princess..." Lady Salisbury knocked at the door of the chamber, announcing her presence.

"Is it time?" Mary rose, nervously smoothing her skirts, painfully conscious of the fact that her best burgundy dress wasn't exactly a suitable dress for a bride. The king had only given her two days to prepare, so there hadn't been enough time to make something new. Besides, even if she'd had time, she wouldn't have been able to pay for a new dress anyway.

"No Princess, there's still time" Lady Salisbury calmed her young charge "but Ambassador Chapuys is here asking permission to see you."

"Of course! Send him in." Mary smiled for the first time that day. She was genuinely happy at the news about the ambassador's arrival, but also tremendously surprised at his presence. After all, her father had expressly forbidden her to invite anybody to the marriage ceremony. Could it be that Ambassador Chapuys had openly defied the King's orders? If that was the case, he would almost certainly be facing punishment for his actions!

"Princess Mary" The Ambassador, dressed in festive clothes with the heavy gold chain of his office around his neck, bowed to her "You're a sight for sore eyes, Your Highness." His compliment caused a blush to rise in Mary's normally pale cheeks.

"Welcome, Excellency." She squeezed his hand. "I am so pleased to see you. I don't know how you managed to get permission from the King, but I thank you for coming."

"I'm glad that my presence pleases you, Princess, but it's not me you should be thanking for it." Ambassador Chapuys contradicted her. "It was your future husband who enabled me to come by appointing me to the honoured position of his witness."

Mary was stunned upon hearing that. After all, the Duke of Suffolk certainly had many friends who would have agreed to perform the role of the witness, and yet he'd omitted them all and assigned that role to a man who openly supported her mother - the Spanish Ambassador himself. It had to be a gesture of goodwill from his side; a truly nice gesture that really made her happy. Perhaps that gesture hinted that her future wouldn't be as grim as she had previously feared.

"I have also brought you a gift from your mother." As he spoke, he handed her a small pouch. "It's a family jewel your mother brought with her from Spain. She asked me to hand it to you along with her blessing. She also said that she would be praying for your happiness today."

Mary reached for the present with trembling hands, feeling tears coming to her eyes.

"It's magnificent." she whispered, staring at the huge blue jewel set into the gold chain. It was exactly the same colour as her mother's eyes.

"The Queen asked me to tell you, that even though she couldn't be here in person, her heart and thoughts are always with you." Chapuys continued, his voice thick at the sight of the obvious emotion showing on a small pale face.

"My Mother. How is she these days? " Mary asked, tightening her hands on the jewel; craving news of her mother, whom she had not seen for a long time.

"She's strong, Princess, and she still believes and fights" Chapuys assured her.

"And what about -?" Mary swallowed nervously, "What does my mother think about my Father's choice? What is her opinion concerning my marriage?" She needed her mother's support, her tender touch and assurance, her words, promising that everything would be all right.

Chapuys smiled, happy that he could help her with that issue. "Actually the Queen selected your bridegroom-to-be, Your Highness, not His Majesty. As far as I know, your mother the Queen believes that you'll find both happiness and protection in your union with Charles Brandon and I have to say, I share that opinion myself."

Eustace Chapuys hadn't been recognized as the fluent diplomat without reason. He knew when one should bow, when one should tell the truth, and when one simply ought to tell a white lie. Princess Mary needed assurance, incentives to face the outside world with her head held high. And he intended to provide it for her. That was his sole purpose for being here.

Mary stared at the Ambassador, stunned. She couldn't take it in. It had been her mother who had chosen the Duke of Suffolk to be her husband? Not her father? Her mother, the proud Princess of Spain, had accepted him, a mere Duke, as a fit husband for her precious daughter? Her Princess of England?

"Yes, that's true. I too am convinced that I'll find my happiness in that union, since it's been the choice of my mother, the Queen." Mary stated more calmly. Her mother couldn't have been wrong. Since the Queen had made such a choice, then it was clearly Mary's destiny to marry Duke of Suffolk and be the best possible wife to him. Her mother would never have expected anything less than that.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"You are ignoring me, Sire." Anne was fuming, unused to receiving that kind of reaction from the King.

Usually, he couldn't take his eyes from her, and neither, when they were alone, could he keep his hands off her, but not today. Today, in spite of the fact that they were alone, he didn't even try to touch her. Instead, he sat lost in his thoughts, fixing his eyes on the horizon. Anne knew where the King's mood came from. Mary was getting married today. But he had said himself on many occasions that neither she nor Catherine meant anything to him! Mary was only a girl, not the boy that King Henry craved so much, so there was no point in wasting time thinking about her! Anne couldn't allow the king to ignore her on account of some soon-to-be bastard!

"My beloved" she moved closer to him, making sure that her breasts rubbed against his arm. "I can't wait to see our sons." she whispered directly into his ear, tickling it with her hot breath. "I've been dreaming of them. Our strong sons, heirs to your kingdom. Don't make me wait too long. The waiting is killing me"

"It won't be long, darling. When we come back from France, I'll send Catherine away."

"Promise?" Anne gasped, delighted with the news.

"I promise, sweetheart." Henry forced himself to smile.

He knew that Anne was right; their future together was the most important thing. Soon he would have the sons she'd promised to give him. And yet… today, even while he was kissing his future bride, in his mind he saw an image of his daughter. His little daughter who was getting married. Perhaps he should have sent her something. A small present.

Anne had been right when she had opposed his presence at the ceremony. He couldn't have been there when Mary so openly supported her mother, but he could send her a present. Some trinket. It was her marriage ceremony, after all.

A small trinket should please her - a diadem or a bracelet, perhaps.

Something like one of those expensive ruby necklaces Anne adored receiving. Yes, he would send Mary something like that, as a proof of his good will. And when she had submitted to his will and was reconciled to her new bastard status, she would be welcomed back to Court as befitted a Duchess of Suffolk.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________

"My Lady" Charles Brandon greeted his bride-to-be with a smile, behind which he was trying to conceal his nervousness about the whole idea.

He was waiting for her in front of the door leading to the chapel because he wasn't sure what kind of reaction he could expect from her. He wanted to meet her and speak with her away from the nosy eyes of Ludlow's inhabitants, who were all gathered inside the chapel.

"Your Grace" she answered, summoning a smile from somewhere, though she was quivering inside.

"You look beautiful." He complimented her, regarding her smooth alabaster skin and shining eyes.

She had her mother's eyes. During the years she had spent away from the court Mary had transformed from the little girl he used to know into a beautiful lady. A proud young lady, Charles noticed, watching her raise her head proudly and noting the way she straightened her back. A true princess, despite the circumstances she found herself in.

"Thank you" Mary blushed furiously, seeing the genuine admiration in his eyes. Being away from the court for so long, she wasn't accustomed to the sight of men admiring her beauty. Her blush deepened even more when she remembered everything that Lady Salisbury had told her about the life of a married couple. She couldn't even imagine herself in that kind of closeness with the complete stranger standing before her. She knew nothing about him, not even what would cause him to smile, and what would provoke his anger.

Charles cleared his throat seeing her confusion and the uncertainty. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her more.

"I am sorry that the circumstances around our union aren't the best, and that everything happened so quickly, leaving you no time to adjust." He shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to continue since he didn't want to make everything even worse than it already was.

Mary relaxed slightly as she noticed his hesitation.

"My mother chose you, my father approved. That's good enough for me."

"For my part, I can promise you that I will care for you and protect you."

"I could not ask for more, Your Grace." Mary smiled at him, continuing "and I'm very grateful to you for inviting Ambassador Chapuys. His presence means a lot to me." Hesitantly, not sure if what she was planning was proper; guided only by her intuition, she rose to her tip toes, and kissed his freshly shaven cheek. "Thank you, Your Grace."

The Duke of Suffolk smiled sheepishly at her innocent gesture. He'd done something right. He'd made her happy; that was a good start.

"Shall we, Mary?" he asked, offering her his hand.

"Yes please…Charles" she stated, putting her small hand in his large one. Together, they entered the chapel where the priest was waiting for them.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BETAED BY Lady Eleanor Boleyn- Thank YOU!

The wedding ceremony had taken half an hour and Mary had spent the next hour saying her farewells to all the inhabitants of the castle. There had been a lot of tears shed, most of them by Lady Salisbury who had deeply regretted that she wouldn't be able to accompany her young charge. Mary had chosen a token to remember her by for each of them, which reduced her already modest possessions even more.

Mary flushed with shame suddenly realizing that her husband would obtain no dowry. It forced her to wonder why he'd decided to marry her. He gained nothing from their union, neither wealth nor prestige. So what had driven him to do it?

Neither love, nor greed, nor desire of influences and honour had, so what? Could it be pity?

She lacked the courage to look him in the eyes when he helped her to get into the carriage that was supposed to take her to her new house and breathed a sigh of relief when he announced that he would rather make the journey on his horse than keep her company in the carriage. She had time to think about what would come next. The events of the day had left her puzzled. Now, riding into the unknown, she had a brief respite. Her hand went to her mother's necklace subconsciously. She needed Catherine's strength and clear mind. She closed her eyes and unintentionally, she fell asleep, her body and mind exhausted by the recent events.

She was woken by a man's voice calling her name and a touch on her cheek. She flinched violently. She was puzzled. She didn't know where she was and who the man bending over her was. It took her a moment to recall recent events and she blushed. No man had ever seen her sleeping before.

Charles, witnessing her confusion and fear, moved away from the carriage's door, not wanting to scare her further. Damn! He wasn't used to dealing with innocent virgins who weren't interested in him. He was used to women who sought his services, not ones who moved away from him. And yet, somehow, he had ended up with a wife who didn't want him at all and, on top of that, was solidly afraid of him. What a mess.

Mary blinked trying to get rid of the fog. To her surprise she realised that it was growing dark. "How long was I asleep?" she asked. "Are we there?"

"Almost there" Charles stretched his hand out towards her. "We've reached the best spot to see Bradgate before it gets too dark. I thought that perhaps you would enjoy the view." he finished, unsure how she would react. Suddenly the whole idea of bringing her here, where he had lived with Margaret, didn't seem to be such a good one Damn it. He should have thought about it earlier!

"Smart move Charles," He scolded himself, "You brought her here - to the place where her Aunt Margaret died."

Mary was getting curious, so she took the proffered hand and, with a sigh of relief, stepped out of the carriage, stretching her legs. They were on a top of hill from which they could have a view down on to the entire estate.

"There " Charles stood behind her and, resting his hands on her shoulders, turned her so she was facing the building located below, which was lighted with rays of the setting sun.

It was beautiful. The high, majestic building looked from a distance like a miniature work of art. It had a simple front, but green creepers of grapevine covering the walls reduced the harsh architecture. Although she couldn't see from where she was, Mary was sure that the windows were decorated with elaborate reliefs. With such a quantity of windows the rooms had to be full of light during the day, exactly the way she liked it. She wondered what the inside and the garden would look like.

"Do you like it?" Charles asked.

He knew perfectly well that his house was nothing compared to the royal residences that she had grown up in. But for him, it had always been the most beautiful place, the only place he had ever called home. He hoped that in time she would consider it her home too.

"It's wonderful" she admitted letting herself forget, just for a moment, about everything that had happened and just enjoying the view.

Seen from close up, the residence offered an equally warm and inviting impression, thanks, most probably, to the light of numerous torches that were set out along the road . Mary smoothed her skirts and tried to rearrange her hair. She was nervous. She desperately wanted to make a good first impression on the inhabitants of Bradgate who were gathered near the main door and waiting to greet her. There were about 15 people there, lead by a well-built older woman who was most certainly the housekeeper.

"Your Grace, My Lady Mary, welcome to Bradgate." The woman, whom Charles introduced to her as Mrs Nurrows - a housekeeper and his old governess - greeted them formally. "If I may, My Lady Mary, please accept the best wishes of happiness from us all."

"Thank you Mrs Nurrows " Mary smiled, seeing all the gathered servants who were watching with curiosity, gazing at their new mistress. "I thank you all for your wishes." She didn't want to appear proud or snobbish. She was supposed to live among these people. She wanted them to like her, not hate or fear her.

"Yes, thank you Mrs Nurrows" Charles, pleased with both his wife's manners and his servants' obedience, offered Mary his arm and led his wife inside.

"You must be exhausted" Charles commented, leading her up the stairs to the rooms which he had ordered to be prepared for her. "I think it would be best if we left the tour around the house until tomorrow."

At first, Mary nodded with gratitude only to be petrified with fear seconds later. If they weren't going to have a tour of the house, then he was going to take her into the bedroom, or, more precisely, into their bedroom.

Mary had to use all her will power to restrain herself from tearing her hand from his grip. She wasn't ready to be a wife; she wasn't ready to lie with her husband in the way that Lady Salisbury had described to her. She wasn't ready!

Unaware of her fear, Charles opened the door into the chamber and breathed a sigh of relief. Mrs Nurrows, once again, had done what he'd asked of her. Everything was prepared. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, the bedding and curtains had been replaced and the whole room had been cleaned and aired.

"This is your room." Charles turned to Mary who stood frozen in the doorway. Only now did he notice the obvious fear in her wide eyes.

Damn! She wouldn't start crying, would she? What did he do to cause her fear? She had seemed to be calm and even happy downstairs. Mary's eyes travelled to the bed and Charles finally grasped the reason behind her sudden anxieties.

"My chamber is located at the end of the corridor in case you need me. I assigned this bedroom and the boudoir adjoining it to you." He started, slowly trying to make her understand his meaning. Yes, he'd agreed to the marriage, but it didn't mean that he was going to consummate it, especially not with a young girl who was clearly unwilling. He was many things, but he was definitely not a rapist. And of course a non-consummated marriage would be an excellent reason for annulling their bond when the time came and then Mary would be able to marry some prince and he would be able to go back to his normal life. A perfect plan.

Mary watched him, processing his words. This room and this bed were for her use only? He wasn't going to force her?

Charles's soft smile and nod gave her an answer.

"The servants will bring you supper and your things" Charles stated when he noticed that her face was calm again, though his male pride was slightly offended by her reaction. After all, he wasn't so ugly and disgusting that spending a night with him would be a nightmare, was he?

"You're right, that would be best. It has been a tiring day." Mary agreed, regaining the ability to speak "Won't you stay and have supper with me?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I must see to a few matters connected with the trip to France" Charles answered.

"Are we going to France?" Her eyes lit up at the very thought and Charles cursed his thoughtlessness. He hated to be the one to extinguish that glitter.

"Unfortunately, you are not. It's an official State visit and by His Majesty's own order you are not to accompany me." he explained and hunched into himself watching her face fall and getting ready for her outburst.

"I see." she said calmly, surprising him once again.

He had expected tears and protests, rather than this composure and acceptance. Margaret, had she ever been placed in such a situation, would have thrown a few heavy objects at him, while screaming her head off. It looked like his new wife really was a unique woman who was ready to accept, with dignity, all obstacles to her happiness, as long as she escaped sleeping with him. Now that was a real blow to his manliness.

"Will you need my help in making preparations for the journey?" Mary offered, reminding herself of her new duties as his wife.

"No, everything is almost ready." Charles assured her. Seeing her crestfallen expression, he hastily added "But thank you for the offer. I'll gladly accept some help next time."

"I'll be glad to help."

"I'll bid you goodbye then. Unfortunately we won't see each other for some time. I must leave tomorrow, and the visit in France might well be a long one." he announced. "I hope that you will find something to entertain yourself. Mrs Nurrows will be here to help you with everything. You will find a few mares suitable for you to ride in the stables, should you wish to go riding. There is also of course a garden where you can walk."

"Please, Charles, don't worry about me. I'm sure I'll be fine." Mary reassured him, touched by his eagerness to please her. She was already making plans as to what she would do first.

"In that case, I'll bid you good night. "He gave her a small smile and turned toward the door, letting in the young girl carrying a tray with steaming dishes as he left.

Mary watched him leave and then turned to the girl "Thank you...?" She hesitated

„ Molly, Milady" The young girl introduced herself bashfully, setting the meal on the table and filling the goblet as she did so.

"Thank you, Molly." Mary offered the shy girl another swift smile "That will be all."

Molly tried to curtsy "Yes Milady"

"But I have another request. Could you please wake me up tomorrow so that I can eat breakfast with my husband?"

"But it will be very early, Milady, th' Duke'll leave before sunrise!" Molly remarked.

"It doesn't matter. I wish to say goodbye to him." Mary declared, reminding herself of better days when she had seen her parents saying goodbye to each other before each journey either one of them took.

If Charles could try to make their marriage work, she could too. She didn't know much about being a wife, but she was willing to learn. She only needed some time to get to know him better.

To start with, she decided to get to know her new house and its residents. She planned that, tomorrow, she would ask Mrs Nurrows to tell her all about the Duke's habits and give her the tour around the house.


	6. 6

"Your Highness " Thomas Cromwell entered Queen's chambers like a dark angel carrying dreadful news "By His Majesty the King's order you are to leave Court and go to the King's estate at The More." His voice was as dull and unemotional as his posture. An example of a perfect servant who performed his master's orders without any hesitation.

Catherine turned to face him and measured the man standing before her. For the past hour she had observed the preparations for the King's journey through the window and wondered what would come next. Now she had her answer delivered to her by the man she had come to despise. She had never liked Cardinal Wolsey, but he had at least been able to show some humanity, completely otherwise to that meagre man standing before her now.

"He didn't say goodbye to me" she said calmly, trying not to show that she was fighting tears. "In the past, whenever he left on a journey, he always remembered to say goodbye to me."

Cromwell knitted his brows worried with her strange reaction. Could it be that Queen Catherine was finally losing her senses? He didn't want it. He was an executor of King Henry's will, the King's loyal servant, but it didn't mean that he wanted something like that for her.

If only the Queen had yielded and agreed on the divorce she wouldn't have been in such a situation and he wouldn't have stood before her feeling like a schoolboy. That woman was able to make him squirm with one look, an extremely rare ability, one which he was sure that Anne Boleyn would never master.

"King Henry also demands that you hand over the Royal jewels." He said it as if he was asking for the simplest thing in the world.

That demand caught her attention. Catherine's hand mechanically went to the necklace she had worn since the day of her coronation. She was ordered to give up the symbols of who she was; to hand them to Anne Boleyn? Never! She would go to More, but the crown jewels would come with her!

"No." she said simply, looking him in the eyes; challenging him to try and oppose her. "Never. They belong to me in my position as Queen of England. The true Queen."

Cromwell for a moment felt as if he was a young boy being scolded by his tutor. Catherine, seeing that he wasn't going to fight her, turned her head in the direction of the fireplace and Thomas Cromwell understood that he would accomplish nothing. The Queen wasn't going to retreat and he wasn't going to battle her over that today.

"As you wish Your Highness. Your departure is planned for tomorrow." he announced before leaving.

Once outside the chamber, Thomas Cromwell leaned against the door and took a deep breath. He didn't want to think what his future would be like if Princess Mary ever claimed the crown; not after what he had done today.

* * *

Charles regarded the small crowd gathered by a rear exit of the castle with a pang of sadness. The King and his entourage had left the residence an hour ago, heading toward the ship that would take them to France, leaving only servants behind. And those servants were now gathered here, ready to pay their respects and say goodbye to their Queen.

"Your Grace. I didn't expect you here." Chapuys, the only high-born man among the company, apart from Charles, greeted him with a nod, genuinely surprised by the younger man's presence. "I thought that you would be a part of King Henry's expedition to France."

"I am, Your Excellency." Charles confirmed "I will catch up with the procession before they reach the harbour."

Perhaps his decision to stay behind was stupid, but he hadn't been able to leave without saying his goodbyes to the Queen. He was both her subject and her son-in-law - even if it was in name only. Therefore it was his duty to be here.

"Your Grace, I know that, by the King's order your wife is supposed to remain in Bradgate. I would like, with your permission of course, to visit her on whatever date you choose." Chapuys addressed Charles with a formal request.

"Excellency, my wife regards you as a friend. You can visit her and my house any time you like. The King didn't give me any orders regarding the matter and I am not going to forbid Mary anything more than is absolutely necessary. Even more than that, I'd be grateful knowing that during my absence she would be able to count on you and your counsel."

Chapuys nodded his head hiding a smile of satisfaction. It looked like the Queen had made the right choice. Brandon- with his mischievous attitude, courage, and charm, could be Princess Mary's salvation , and who knows maybe this marriage would even help the Queen in the long run.

The appearance of the one for which everyone waited stopped any further conversation. Queen Catherine, dressed in a black dress and a black veil - symbols of her sorrow and mourning, smiled sadly at the sight of her people.

"God bless you all" she whispered, looking at the tear-stained faces of bowing servants. She gave them her blessing, then turned her eyes on the two men standing right by the carriage.

"You see Charles, I was right in saying that my time was limited."

"My Queen" Charles tried to find some appropriate words to comfort her "I am certain that, someday soon, we'll all celebrate your return."

Catherine nodded sadly, wanting to believe his words but knowing that it was hardly probable in the near future. "Look after my daughter" was all she asked, and when he responded to her by a bow, she addressed the Imperial Ambassador while Charles moved aside, not wanting to disturb them.

"Excellency, I entrust both of them to your care. Please support them with your counsel, as you've always supported me." Catherine spoke her request in her native language.

"I'll do as you say, My Queen. "Ambassador Chapuys answered, and then, pointing at the crowd, added "You're the Queen of their hearts, my Infanta Catalina. They'll all pray for your quick return and I'm sure that Your Highness will return here."

Catherine looked at the walls of her house for the last time and then got into the carriage which was supposed to take her to the place of exile.

* * *

Mary's first two weeks in her new house had passed very quickly. Mrs Nurrows , after overcoming her initial shyness, had turned out to be more than willing to talk about the house and her master the Duke, whom she had known, she'd assured Mary, since his infant days. Listening to her stories Mary had been getting to know her husband a little better. Mrs Nurrows had painted a picture of him as a pleasant enough man, prone to games, but also a man capable of higher feelings. Mary had listened to it all, even though she had been sure than Mrs Nurrows had been smitten with the Duke since he was a child.

But talking with Mrs Nurrows had been only part of Mary's work. She had acquainted herself with the house with the same enthusiasm, though she had to admit that, in spite of Mrs Nurrows care, it wasn't in the best of condition. It was clear that the house hadn't had a lady who would look after the minor details, the ones that were seemingly insignificant, but which actually created the atmosphere of home. They needed a new set of large pillows on chairs and to change the rugs and curtains in the unused room. And there was also a garden which needed new pot plants and trimming bushes. The list of the things to do was getting longer with each passing day, much to Mary's contentment. She liked having something to do.

She was only a little worried about how she would pay for all her purchases. Her own modest funds had practically run out, and she didn't have the courage, despite Mrs. Nurrows's encouragement, to use Charles's money. She was his wife but he had never said anything about spending his money and she didn't want to provoke his anger.

She simply had to obtain the sum she needed from a different source.

Mary, standing in the garden among freshly dug up beds, was wondering what to do. Thoughtful, she looked at the ruby bracelet which she'd received a week ago. It was worth more then she needed, but she couldn't bring herself to even consider selling it. It was a wedding present from her father! In her heart of hearts, she'd hoped that her father would send her a letter with the bracelet, or, better yet, an invitation to attend Court, but it looked like His Majesty had considered the ruby bracelet to be enough of a present.

She appreciated the gesture, but she would have been a hundred times more pleased with a few words written by her father.

She was deep in thoughts when Ambassador Chapuys saw her.

"I can see that you've been busy, My Lady." he stated, staring at the garden.

"Excellency. It's a pleasure to welcome you to my home." Mary put her contemplations about her father and his present aside and greeted her friend.

Chapuys attentively fixed his eyes on her face, and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing no indications of suffering or shed tears. Standing in the centre of Bradgate's gardens, Mary seemed to be calm and happy. He regretted that the news he brought would destroy this peace, but he didn't have the right to withhold such information from her. She had to know her own situation. She had to know the risk. They were all balancing on a thin line and one mistake could send both her and her husband to their deaths.

"I'm glad to see you in good health. I can see that married life is good for you."

"Marriage turned out to be a more pleasant experience than I was expecting." Mary chose the diplomatic answer. "Thank you for you concern Excellency "

"I'm glad to hear that, but I'm afraid the news I bring from the court may stifle your spirit. At any other time I would have gladly spared you that knowledge, but I can't do it now." Chapuys frowned. He could only hoped that her response to his news wouldn't be drastic. She was, after all, still so young, so inexperienced.

"What happened? The King left for France, didn't he? Did something happen to my mother?" Mary asked, anxious

"Your mother, the Queen was sent to The More." Chapuys announced the sad news.

Mary was shocked. The King had sent away her mother? He had sent away the Queen away, as, as though she were some unnecessary subject? He had dared to do it? And she hadn't opposed him? Her mother, a proud Queen of England had let him do it?

"The Queen is supposed to stay at The More until His Majesty has made up his mind as to what to do next. She isn't allowed to leave the estate or accept any visitors without your father's secretary Master Cromwell's express permission." Chapuys put his hand on Mary's arm in an attempt to give her some comfort. "I'm telling you this in order to prepare you. There will be more humiliation to follow for your mother, my sources at Parliament are sure of it. The King is ready to do anything to obtain his goal. You need to be ready for it and not make any mistakes. As long as you're under Duke of Suffolk's protection, you're relatively safe, but you can't risk it by angering the King. Both you, your mother and even your husband would pay for it."

" So you're telling me that my mother the Queen of England has been made a prisoner by the order of the King my father and I cannot say anything in her defence because I will be punished for it." Mary summed up, and looked at the bracelet she had been so pleased to have a minute ago with a new sense of bitterness. Now she recognized it for what it was – a worthless trinket. The King had obviously thought that she could be bought with it. Mary shook her head disgusted. The bracelet wasn't a token of love, but only a dowry, so she would use it as her dowry; use it to pay for her purchases for her house and garden.


	7. 7

"So how has married life been treating you?" Anthony Knivert sat down next to the gloomy Charles and handed him a glass of wine.

Brandon drank it in one gulp, not taking his eyes from the figure of Anne Boleyn who was dancing before the Kings of England and France. She seemed to be unstoppable.

"It's excellent" Charles lied smoothly, averting his gaze from Anne, who was now sitting next to King Francis, and answering his friend's earlier question.

He smiled, remembering Mary's farewell. Her presence at breakfast on the day of his departure had both surprised him and pleased him. She had been genuinely concerned about his welfare, and her wishes of a good journey and a speedy return had sounded astonishingly warm. If he was completely honest with himself, then Charles had to admit that he would have preferred to stay in Bradgate with Mary, than be sitting here and watching that viper with the angelic face charming the King.

"I'm pleased to hear that." Anthony didn't dare to question Charles's statement. "I regret that I couldn't be at the ceremony, but I understand that you didn't have a lot of say when they drew up the "Invited" list."

Charles nodded his head, without a word, confirming Knivert's suspicions; the secret ceremony had been the King's will all along.

"Well then, we have no choice then but invite ourselves to the wedding feast at Bradgate." Compton sat down on the bench next to Brandon putting a full carafe of wine before them. Brandon glanced between his mischievously smiling friends.

"The King's orders forbade you to have a feast at Ludlow. Henry didn't include Bradgate in his order, did he? " Knivert remarked with a roguish flash in his eye. "You may shirked from organizing the feast when you married Margaret, my friend, but this time you don't have any excuse! "

Charles laughed, shaking his head. His friends were right. They _could_ have a celebration at Bradgate. Mary would probably like that.

"So tell me, when you two plan to visit Bradgate?" he asked, pouring himself more wine.

Their good mood lasted until Thomas Boleyn came up to their table.

"Your Grace." he addressed Charles, openly ignoring both Anthony and William, as a pair of the many insignificant noblemen in the King's retinue "It would be my pleasure to invite you to my table for the duration of the feast." Boleyn stated formally. Despite what Anne thought, Brandon was too close to the King to ignore him openly, and now that he was married to Mary, he could be a very useful tool in Boleyn's skilful hands.

"And it's _my_ great pleasure to decline your offer, My Lord" Brandon announced insolently, looking straight into Boleyn's squinted eyes.

"Your Grace never seemed to be particularly interested by politics." Boleyn pointed out, stunned with Charles's refusal. "Pray tell me, what changed?"

Charles measured him with his eyes and answered truthfully "I grew up."

He observed Boleyn, who, completely shocked, walked away without another word with satisfaction.

"It may cost you dearly" Anthony remarked, worried about his friend.

"I know, but my path is already chosen." He took a sip of wine.

His eyes suddenly found Anne's. From that moment on they officially became enemies.

* * *

Anne Boleyn stretched, waking up next to the King after their first night together. She had finally done it; given him her body. Soon she would be a Queen; it was only a matter of time. Catherine had been sent away to some godforsaken and damp hovel of a manor and soon Mary would be acknowledged as the ill begotten bastard she was.

Anne turned her head and looked at the satisfied man sleeping next to her. She didn't love him, but it wasn't a problem, not as long he loved her. Anne felt a sudden pang of fear at the thought. She wasn't superstitious or excessively religious and yet now, lying in Henry's arms and imagining her future as Queen of England, she could not stop shivering.

Anne knitted her brows together, trying to understand the cause of her sudden anxiety. Perhaps they were caused by Catherine's warning expressed a long time ago, when Anne had been only another one of her Ladies-in-Waiting, or maybe her current anxieties were caused by King Francis's warning about the fate of the Queen.

_'The path which you follow can be very dangerous… You will stand utterly alone, Mademoiselle… if I could choose I would have never liked to be who I am.'_

Francis's voice mixed in her mind with Catherine's

_'He will get bored with you'_

With effort, Anne suppressed her worry.

Catherine was no longer a threat. Her son-in-law, after his behaviour toward her father yesterday, would be dismissed from court immediately. And King Francis had obviously been drunk yesterday, so his words should be forgotten. So she didn't have any reason to worry. Everything was excellent. Well… almost everything. She ran her hand over her flat belly. She planned that during this journey she would become pregnant. The sight of his son growing in her belly would give Henry the final reason he needed to hurry his plans. Pleased with herself, Anne closed her eyes, returning to sleep.

* * *

If the King and Anne had thought that sending him away from the court would be a punishment, they would be disappointed. Charles had to hide a smile when Secretary Cromwell informed him, not two hours after they had returned from France, that by Henry's orders, he was supposed to leave Court immediately and not come back until he was summoned.

Nothing could please Charles more than that. He didn't regret his attempt to talk some sense into the King and to show him Anne's true colours. He wouldn't have been a good friend if he'd decided to stay silent in the interest of protecting himself, as most people did. Charles wondered how Mary had spent those months without him. He knew that Chapuys had already given her the news about Queen Catherine's exile and secretely he was grateful that the ambassador had taken the sad duty of notifying the Princess upon himself. He would have hated to have been the one to tell her and have to witness her reaction.

It had been three months since he had left Bradgate and he hadn't had any news from home since. Therefore, nothing prepared him for the sight that greeted him when he rode through the gate. Since he hadn't informed anybody about his return no one awaited him and Charles could acquaint himself with the newest alterations. He couldn't remember the house and its surroundings looking so neat. There was no sight of the dogs that usually gathered near the doors, and the bushes had been trimmed forming a perfect lane leading to the front door, which had a newly polished knocker and handle. The whole place was quiet and serene.

"Your Grace!" Tom, one of the stablemen, ran out from the stable, bowing "We didn't know about Your Grace's arrival" he excused himself frantically.

"It's alright, Tom." Charles calmed him, getting off the horse andhanding Tom the reins. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

Tom smiled widely. Of course, there was a loving wife waiting for the Duke at home. It was obvious that the Duke had come back in a hurry.

"And where are the dogs?" Charles asked, looking around for them, puzzled by their absence.

"The Duchess ordered them to be locked up in the stable they have assigned kennels and a few younger boys to care of them." Tom explained, scratching his head with embarrassment. "I'm sorry Your Grace, but it wasn't possible to keep an eye on them and they kept running into the garden and ruining the seedlings."

Garden? Since when had Bradgate's garden been anything that dogs could ruin? It was a few lanes with bushes planted in it; much to Mrs Nurrows's despair.

"Your Grace!" Mrs Nurrows was running in his direction breathlessly, correcting her tilted coif as she ran. "Your Grace is finally home! What excellent news! The Duchess will be surprised!" Mrs Nurrows chattered away as she led Charles inside. "Hurry! Hurry! Light the fire in Duke Charles's chamber! Prepare a bath and some fresh clothes!"

She shouted at the servants while Charles occupied himself with examining his house.

It seemed that changes had been made inside as well. From a distance he noticed new soft large pillows laid out by the fireplace and covering chairs, walls shone scrubbed out to the whiteness, floors were washed; why, his once empty house was pulsating with life.

Lost in his thoughts, Charles didn't notice that Mrs Nurrows had stopped her monologue and was now watching him with a satisfied smile on her rounded, ruddy face.

'Yes, yes there is finally a Lady of the house in Bradgate! "she announced proudly, glancing at the changes and improvements which she'd helped to implement, and which changed the once bachelor household into a happy homestead. It was true, the young Lady Mary had turned out to be the lady of the house that her predecessor had never been. Mrs Nurrows had never been able to truly accept Margaret. The former Duchess had seemed to be too frivolous, too immature. She hadn't been interested in anything concerning the house, leaving it all to Mrs Nurrows. Now the new Duchess was a complete opposite. Mature, confident and smart, but not snobbish. She wanted to know everything, about the house, the people. Mary was exactly the woman Mrs Nurrows had prayed to see at her master's side - the Mistress Bradgate needed.

Now the only thing that was missing was the patter of little feet, but Mrs Nurrows had faith that it would soon change and Bradgate would resound with children's laughter. After all, the Duchess was young and beautiful, and the Duke was handsome and healthy. Mrs Nurrows was already imagining how beautiful and sweet their kids would be.

"And where is the Duchess?" Charles asked, unaware of his housekeeper's thoughts.

"Oh! Excuse me! How silly of me! I forgot that the Duchess doesn't know about Your Grace's arrival!" Mrs Nurrows picked up her skirts to run and fetch her mistress, flushing beetroot red, but Charles's hand stopped her before she set off.

"I believe she knows!" he chuckled, hearing light woman's footsteps running down the stairs.

He summoned his best smile, preparing to greet his wife.


	8. 8

Mary, alerted by the sudden tumult of servants climbing the stairs in pursuit of their duties, ran down the stairs alarmed, only to almost collapse at the sight of the tall suntanned man standing in the entrance hall. Her husband was home!

"Charles!" she shouted, surprised, stopping halfway and regretting that she had chosen to wear one of her oldest dresses that day. She had been so occupied with the cleaning and the garden that she had even forgotten to arrange her hair! That was definitely not the way she should have looked while greeting him. "We didn't expect you!"

"Mary!" He greeted her with a warm smile. "I decided to surprise you. I hope you aren't angry?"He asked taking hold of her hand and kissing it courteously. She looked different. The last time he had seen her she had looked like a Princess – dressed in a festive gown embroidered with pearls and a diamond encrusted hood. Now, however, another Mary stood before him. He didn't see a Princess, but rather a blushing lady of the house, with her hair plaited into a casual plait wearing a plain green gown, on which there was no sign of diamonds or pearls, and yet she seemed to be more beautiful than ever. The simplicity of her dress let her natural beauty shine.

Mary cringed, embarrassed by her clumsy greeting. It wasn't the way a wife should welcome her returning husband.

"Of course not. It's a wonderful surprise. Welcome home, Your Grace."

Mrs Nurrows, not wanting to disturb the young couple, quickly walked away, imagining a tiny baby with blue eyes and curly hair stretching it's chubby arms out to her.

"But is this still my house? When I arrived, I wasn't sure whether I'd taken the right road." Charles said, only half-joking. "I can see you were occupied during my absence."

"I implemented certain changes; both Mrs Nurrows and I thought that they would suit you. These are really trifles." Mary hurried to explain, anxious about his reaction. "We replaced some curtains, dealt with the gardens and tidied the entire manor up. We got rid of anything we didn't need."

I am certain, that between you both you made a good selection. " Charles assured her. "I am especially pleased that the Bradgate looks so good, because in 5 days we will have guests here. It will be necessary to prepare chambers for them. I hope that drawing up the menu for the all-night feast won't be a inconvenience for you. Mrs Nurrows will certainly help you with everything. We will need meat, wine, fruits and of course musicians. "

"It'll be my pleasure" Mary responded quickly, pleased with the idea. She hadn't had any opportunity to dance for so long!

"It will be a joyful feast." Charles winked knowingly at her, taking her hand and placing it on his arm as he led her up the stairs "Exactly as a wedding feast should be."

"Wedding feast? But didn't the King forbid us to have one?"

"Yes, the King forbade us to hold feast in Ludlow, but he said nothing about Bradgate." Charles repeated Knivert's words and, with a roguish flash in his eye, added "I think that we both deserve to celebrate our nuptials with a royal feast."

Mary giggled, seeing his face and boyish smile. He looked ten years younger when he was smiling like that.

"So you would stay till the feast?" she asked a little surprised that he preferred Bradgate and her company over the pleasures of King's Court.

"Much longer, my dear. For my insolence towards the Earl of Wiltshire, I've been sent away from Court for an indefinite period of time " he explained, favouring her with another of his boyish swashbuckling smiles "I am afraid that you are doomed to deal with my presence for a while."

The news about the feast spread amongst the servants in a flash, stirring up a joyful commotion. It'd been a while since there had been any feasts hosted at Bradgate, so everyone looked forward to the party. And a fact that it would be a wedding feast for their much loved master and the mistress which they had managed to fall in love with, only served to make the residents of the castle even merrier. Charles was woken the next day by a joyful bustle of servants and their suppressed excited whispers, who were supposed to keep him company all day. He definitely had nothing against the festive atmosphere which ruled in Bradgate. After the torture of false joy he had experienced at Court and then in France, his own home seemed to be an oasis of bliss and calmness.

Charles sitting at the table had to adapt his earlier statement. His house was an oasis of bliss, of calmness and exceptionally tasty food. Had Mary changed the cook? So far, his own few attempts to intervene in the kitchen had ended with a tremendous row between Mrs Nurrows and Joseph the cook. After a confrontation between those two, he had usually ended up running away, painfully aware that his food would be still burnt and tasteless.

"It's edible! How did you manage to do it?" he asked, raising his amazed eyes to his wife, who was sitting opposite, smiling proudly.

"I simply talked to the cook and listened to his comments. The kitchen lacked equipment and a new stove. A few investments were enough to make Joseph happy" Mary explained modestly, reminding herself of the blissful face of the cook when he had thanked her for listening to him. "I may be wrong, but I believe that he and Mrs Nurrows will never be good friends. Their mutual stalking reminds me of war manoeuvres."

"Manoeuvres of which our stomachs were unfortunate victims. Thank you for bringing peace to our kitchens." Charles stated humorously, not devoting particular attention to the issue of the purchases made by Mary. He was satisfied that his wife had solved some of Bradgate's more urgent problems. Mary breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that her actions had gained his approval.

"Do you have any plans for today?" she asked when they had finished and Molly started collecting plates.

"Nothing in particular. Why, do you have any suggestions for me?"

"If you wish, I could show you the changes I implemented." Mary suggested. "I would like to get your opinion and discuss my propositions."

"My Lady, I am all yours" he answered courteously offering her his arm, realising that he had become very fond of the sensation of her body next to his. "You can lead me anywhere your heart desires."

Mary lowered her eyes, accepting his arm. It wasn't necessary but she liked having his support while they walked. But surely, he couldn't be flirting with her, could he?

Charles hid his smile. He knew that his behaviour was a surprise for her but couldn't restrain himself. Mary's reactions to his seductive and gallant words were completely different from the ones to which his numerous lovers had accustomed him. She was so fresh, so sincere and so lovely when she blushed.

In the afternoon, when they completed their round,Charles was also forced to admit that his wife was unusually sensible. All her proposals were reasonable, and she didn't display, much to his relief, any tendency towards flamboyance. All the alterations Mary had made were aimed to increase the comfort of the occupants of the manor and none were mere whims of a bored, spoiled aristocrat.

He also discovered that his wife had a weakness for nice and carefully set up gardens. Mary's face glowed the most when she showed him newly avenues marked out and although he alone had never felt the need of widening Bradgate's gardens, her joyful smile and shining eyes alone were a good reason to increase them.

He preferred to see her smile rather than her tears. With this thought he went to seek Mrs Nurrows.

"Mrs Nurrows!" He stopped his housekeeper. "I will have to increase household expenses; the Duchess wants to implement her next alterations."

"There is no need for that, Your Grace" the old lady reassured him. "The money which your Grace allotted for this month is still almost intact."

Intact? Charles raised his eyebrows in amazement. Admittedly, he wasn't familiar with the prices of fabrics or seedlings, but he was certain that the last shopping Mary had indulged in cost far more than the monthly amount which he had left behind for the upkeep of a house. Unless the sellers, knowing who they were dealing with, hadn't demanded the payment at once.

"So they granted us credit, but we still have to pay them back. "

"No, Your Grace. The Duchess covered all the expenses from her own money." Mrs Nurrows explained "I asked the Duchess to use the money your Grace had left, but Your Grace forgot to leave a letter of authorisation for your wife" Mrs Nurrows sighed.

Brandon winced. In fact, in all the chaos before the trip to France, he _had_ forgotten to leave Mary a letter of authorisation, but being his wife, she should have been able to use his money without it!

"Your Grace should have thought about it! It's a disgrace that The Duchess had to sell her jewellery in order to pay for her purchases" Mrs Nurrows continued in outrage.

"What jewellery?" Charles asked, surprised. When Mrs Nurrows announced that Mary had paid for her purchases, he'd simply thought that she'd had an appropriate amount at her disposal. He didn't even think that she had sold her jewellery.

"A Bracelet brought by His Majesty's messenger. It was a beautiful thing, it was!" she answered quickly and watched the young man turning on the heel and quickly walking in the direction of rooms where the Duchess should be with satisfaction.

"You sold the bracelet the King sent you?" Charles asked entering the chamber and with sending away two servants who were busy decorating the great room with a nod.

Mary, not wanting the servants to listen to this conversation, waited until Molly and Becky left, before turning her attention to her husband.

"I needed money to pay for the purchases and it was a dowry given to me by the King." Mary stated her reasons.

She didn't think that her decision would anger him. Perhaps she shouldn't have made such decision herself. In the end the dowry of the wife belonged to the husband. But after all, he'd liked the changes she had made. Where, according to him, had she been supposed to get the money for all of it from?

"It wasn't a dowry; it was a present from His Majesty King Henry!" Charles protested, not understanding her strange explanation. How could she just sell the present from her father?

Mary felt like screaming, or smashing his skull with the nearest heavy object, but she stopped herself. Instead of acting like a spoiled child she chose to act like the adult one.

"I am sorry, Your Grace. Please accept my apology. I will take care so that all jewellery I have is brought to your chamber right away so that you can make a list of it." she announced proudly

"Don't be ridiculous! Your jewellery is yours and yours alone, you know that, Mary! If you want, you can throw it out of a window or hand it out to the servants! I don't care!" Charles yelled, frustrated with her words.

"If that's so, then why are you angry?" Mary asked, not understanding. If he didn't care about her jewellery, then why was he yelling at her? Perhaps Lady Salisbury had been right when she warned her that men were the least logical beings under the sun.

"I am not angry, and I'm not yelling! But in the future I would prefer that you use my money instead of selling your jewellery" Charles explained, trying to keep his composure. "I am not a Croesus, but I'm not so poor so that my wife must act as if she were a tradesman. It was your wedding present from your father; you shouldn't have to sell it. You could have used my money"

" _This_ is my wedding present "Mary answered, pointing at her mother's necklace, which was, as always hanging around her neck. " The bracelet that my father sent was only an unnecessary jewel, and I needed money. All the same…" she carried on, softening "I would be grateful if, next time, you would write me a letter of authorization for the appropriate sum. "

Charles only shook his head. "Mrs Nurrows needs monthly authorisations to appropriate sums. You, on the other hand, have my permission to use it all."

"Aren't you afraid that I will spend your wealth on luxuries?" she asked a little shocked by his declaration. Husbands usually doled out money for their wives to spend as and when they saw fit to do so.

"I don't think you are capable of doing such a thing, and besides, even if you were, the sight of your smile would be worth every penny." His words were met with another hot blush.

"Stop it." she pleaded.

"Stop what?" he pretended not to understand.

"You're making me blush." she accused him, pouting at him.

Charles burst out laughing. She was really sweet, but no matter what she said, the bracelet was a present from her father and it should have remained on her wrist. Maybe he would be able to buy it back it for her.

Suddenly he made himself aware of something. They had just struggled through one of the most crucial moments in every marriage.

„ So… we did it" he announced

"Did what?"

"Our first marriage quarrel!"

* * *


	9. 9

Mary watched two of her husband's closest friends in astonishment. She had expected serious, superior knights, noblemen who would talk about politics and economy, but they diverged from what she had been imagining. Both smiling and cheerful, they drew her to the table the moment she had finished receiving the guests' congratulations, sitting down beside her. Then they proceeded, ignoring Brandon's angry hisses completely, to entertain their young hostess. They never left her side nor allowed anyone too close. Both Compton and Knivert mercilessly made fun at Charles, who blushed more and more furiously by telling her about their shared adventures. At that, Mary lost her grave "Lady of the House" manner and threw back her beautiful head and laughed out loud. It looked like that was their main purpose all along, as if they were assessing her and she seemed to pass their test. Those men and their stories aroused Mary's uncontrollable curiosity. She wanted to know everything, not only about her husband, but also about other things they talked about, about games and parties about which she never heard until now, about all those entertainments that had passed her by during her exile.

Her initial shyness quickly disappeared thanks to her companions' efforts and now her inquiring nature got the upper hand. Turning to Compton, who was definitely the worse diplomat of the two, Mary deluged him with questions.

Charles lifted a goblet to his mouth, trying to hide his mocking smile, as he heard how Compton tried to evade Mary's penetrating questions. His young wife was incredibly stubborn in her innocence and Charles was almost sympathizing with Compton, who was turning redder and redder, desperately searching for an excuse not to offend Mary's delicate sensibilities by informing her of the games that those at Court often took part in.

Seeing that Charles didn't have the slightest intention of saving William, Knivert rose from his chair and, with a courtly bow, asked

"Can I ask you, my lady, to grant me the honour of a dance?" Mary tore her eyes from Compton and noticed Anthony's outstretched hand with surprise.

"My lord, but..." she stammered hesitantly, throwing a glance at her husband, uncertain what she was supposed to do. It was the custom that she should give her first dance to her husband. Admittedly Charles didn't seem to want to dance, but she couldn't force him, could she? It was enough that he gave her this feast, she shouldn't ask for more, no matter how much she wanted to dance.

"I am sorry my friend, but you'll have to wait. My wife may well give you the next dance. This one, however, belongs to me" Charles announced, putting a heavy hand on Knivert's shoulder and forcing him to sit. Brandon chose to pretend that he didn't notice Anthony's smirk of satisfaction.

"Mary, would you do me the greatest of honours and dance with me?" He smiled at her as he held out his hand.

"It would be my pleasure, my lord." With a gracious smile on her lips, Mary let her husband lead her to where the dancers stood and, taking her position, favoured him with her most radiant smile. She did love dancing so much!

"Thank you for the rescue. Another second and I would have confessed all my sins" Compton, utterly relieved, drank his wine in one great gulp. "She is both smart and stubborn!"

"And beautiful. She's a beautiful princess. "

"But she doesn't behave like a princess at all. She is very..." William hesitated, looking for the appropriate expression to describe the new Duchess of Suffolk.

"Nice?" Anthony suggested. "Perhaps even too nice and too honest for her own good" he added, suddenly growing more serious, looking at the dancing couple. Charles was just raising Mary up, the way the dance steps required, and they all could hear her delighted laugh.

"Anthony?" William asked, watching confusedly as his friend rose from the table "Where are you going?"

"To find Mrs Nurrows. I need to talk to her." Not understanding, William gaped at him open-mouthed for a moment; then he followed, wondering what had made Anthony so nervous.

Meanwhile, Charles lowered his happy wife down. He had raised her a bit higher than the dance required, but the sight of her surprised and positively glowing face was a generous reward for the additional effort on his shoulders.

Mary, taking advantage of the slower part of the dance, raised her head a little and looked up at her husband standing opposite her. Sensing her gaze, Charles sent her a roguish smile, but this time, instead of blushing, Mary answered him with an equally playful gesture and, without hesitation, caught his hand and joined the other pairs. Charles only shook his head. Theoretically they were only supposed to dance once but it was obvious that his wife had forgotten. Well, just this once he could put up with it. He laughed quietly and let her pull him into the crowd, unaware of the whispers they aroused with their joyful behaviour.

"She seems to be happy" Thomas More stated carefully, watching the dancing couple.

"I hope she is" his companion announced "God only knows how much she, of all people, deserves to be happy."

"And what was the Emperor's reaction to the news?" More asked interested. Isolated from the court by King Henry's orders, he only learned about things with a delay, but the information he did gather filled him with worry. It looked like a dark cloud was hanging above the English court, ready to fall on residents and Thomas had begun to suspect that nobody would manage to avoid her dark tentacles.

"The Emperor didn't expect it. Obviously. Hardly anyone could predict the King's decision about his daughter's marriage, but my master accepted it with the understanding that it was the will of the King and his aunt the Queen " Chapuys replied diplomatically. Thomas More laughed to himself upon hearing his answer. Chapuys - always the diplomat.

"And how fares the Queen these days? I have applied to Secretary Cromwell repeatedly, requesting permission to visit the Queen, but so far I haven't been granted what I seek."

"The Queen isn't well" Chapuys admitted frowning "All these events have damaged her physical strength. The climate at the More doesn't help it either."

Thomas More saddened upon hearing the news. He still remembered the other wedding feast from many years ago in which he'd had the honour of participating. He remembered the young girl who had enchanted the King and the entire English court with her baby blue eyes, sweet smile and that softly accented Spanish voice. She and Henry hadn't been able to take their eyes off each other. Was it really gone? What had gone wrong? They had been together for so many years, through so many ups and downs. Thomas, alone for many years, then married to one woman, wasn't able to understand the conduct of his student. It wasn't the Henry he knew. This man who had chased his wife away from his home and bastardised his daughter was a complete stranger.

"The hope still remains that the King will change his mind. " he said, going out of his way to be optimistic, but Chapuys chose to be a realist "I'm afraid that it's too late for that " he said cryptically referring to his spy Brereton's reports about everything that had happened between King Henry and Lady Anne in France. The Boleyns had won another skirmish, but by God, they hadn't won the war yet. Chapuys' eyes lingered on Mary's lithe form. She danced leaning on her husband's shoulder, her hair gleaming in the candlelight. Right now she was a sight for sore eyes.

"Yes, there is hope, Sir Thomas, but not where you are seeking it." Eustace whispered to himself.

Mrs Nurrows, surprised by Knivert's question, dropped the tray, hands trembling.

"I don't understand why the servants should check Her Grace's meals? " she stammered nervously "There has never been such a tradition at Bradgate! "

Knivert nodded, accepting her explanations, but still he insisted "I know that, but from now on you should check every meal"

"We've all served the Duke for years! Nobody here would ever harm the Duke or his wife!" she assured him, outraged by his insinuations.

"You won't harm them but others might." Knivert growled bitterly. Mrs Nurrows looked shocked by his seriousness. She had known Knivert since his childhood days, when he and the Duke had chased one another all over Bradgate's meadows, but she had never seen him so determined, so grave.

Seeing that he had frightened the old housekeeper, Anthony took a deep breath and added more calmly "Mrs Nurrows, we all know that there is a lot of malice in the world, and the Duchess is still so young and innocent. It is necessary to protect her so that nothing will happen to her. It's only a precautionary measure, as long as so many strangers are here. We wouldn't want to risk the Duchess's health"

Calmed by his explanation, she nodded "Of course, of course, I will see to it right away. Yes, indeed! So many strangers, there's always a risk" she muttered, walking away.

"Was the scaring of this old lady really necessary?" William, so far listening to the conversation, moved from the shadows as she left.

"You remember when we came into the courtyard, we could see a considerable mob. Servants, peasants, plenty of strangers" Anthony spoke after a moment of silence.

"There is nothing strange in that. If there is a feast on the estate then the local residents always gather counting on the warm fare, and servants arrived with their masters."

"What about Howard servants?" Anthony asked, his voice grim.

"Howards? Why would Howard servants be here? The Howards weren't invited..." William realized what he had just said and looked at his companion. "What are they doing here?"

"That, my friend, I would like to know myself. At best their masters sent them to spy, at worst, well I prefer not to think about it."

"Does Charles know?"

"No, I didn't tell him. I didn't want to ruin the evening." Knivert shrugged. "I will tell him tomorrow. Today we will guard her for him."

Compton nodded his agreement. Looking after each other was their obligation. After all, they were friends, so it was clear that they would watch over Charles's wife with the same determination as they would watch over him.

And they did just that through the entire evening. If Charles moved away from Mary even for a moment, one of them appeared by her side, offering her his arm and entertaining her with conversation. They didn't leave her alone even for a second. Their unusual behaviour in the multitude of sensations escaped the usually perceptive Mary, but it caught attention of other guests. At the end of the evening nobody had any doubts, that Duchess of Suffolk was the greatest and most attentively protected of Bradgate's treasures. Although Anthony and William's chivalrous attitude inspired Charles's gratitude, the view of the trusted servant discreetly trying Mary's food awoke his anxiety. He waited until Mary was dancing with Compton and then pulled Anthony aside.

"What's happening?" he asked at once.

Seeing the raw emotions on Charles face, Anthony decided to stop pretending.

"I noticed a few Howard servants in the courtyard" he explained .

Charles clenched his teeth, calming down with an effort "It's no reason for concern. It's natural that they would send a servant to see what's going on. I'm not saying I like it but it's perfectly normal."

"Maybe, but then why they are wearing Seymour colours instead of their own?"

"You don't think they would... Would they dare? To attack my wife in my own house?" Charles shouted, the mere thought of such audacity awakening blind fury inside of him.

"I don't know, but I believe you should be careful, Charles" Knivert stated. "In a crowd, when everyone's drunk and happy, it's fairly easy to give a blow or to slip something into the wine."

"Don't worry, I will be." Charles whispered, keeping his eyes on Mary's pretty Tudor head. "I swear I will be very, **very** careful."


	10. 10

In the end, they were both wrong. It wasn't a blow with a knife or the cleverly added fatal spice for the meal, no, those attackers proved to be far more cunning. They waited patiently for the nearly 3 days long party to end, until the afternoon when the estate was filled with the hubbub associated with the departure of a large number of guests; until Charles and his friends lowered their guard; until they felt safe. Then they attacked.

"Charles! Charles!" The outcry caused by Anthony running towards him, immediately caught Brandon's attention.

"What?" What, in the name of God! "He asked when his friend stopped next to him, panting.

Anthony, almost out of breath, bent double, his hand on his knees, gasping for air.

"Mary..., Mary... Went... ride... alone" he finally managed to utter.

"She did that every day when we weren't here." Charles's voice trailed off as his eyes widened in panic. Mary was alone. She had been riding alone for months. The same route. Always. By now, everyone knew about it. What a fool he turned out to be! He rushed toward the stables where William was already leading out three saddled horses.

Mary had begun her ritual of rides not quite a week after her arrival in Bradgate. Because she didn't crave company she usually chose to stay near the estate. The closeness of home made her felt safe and she didn't have to bring a servant, which suited her. It wasn't much, but the stolen moments, few though they were, were precious to her. She adored the feel of the wind in her hair during the ride. She felt free and happy, as if nothing could hurt her. She could enjoy the rays of sunshine that caressed her skin and, if only for a moment, pretend that she was still a little girl, with loving parents and adored by everyone. The horse trembled and Mary frowned, tightening her reins. The animal was clearly alarmed. Mary unwittingly tensed which caused the saddle to press more strongly into the horse's back. The horse neighed dangerously and tried to raise his forelegs in protest.

"Easy, easy there". Despite how young she was, Mary considered herself to be an experienced rider. She didn't understand what was happening to her usually calm stallion.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed three riders galloping in her direction and breathed a sigh of relief, not aware that she would seal her fate with that one gesture. The horse broke from her grip and, after running a few strides, again raised his forelegs with a squeal expressing his pain. Completely unprepared, Mary didn't even have time to shout before she fell, hitting the ground with a thud.

Charles watched it all in slow motion. It seemed that they were so close, that in just a minute they would reach her, so he even started thinking what kind of excuse they could give her to justify themselves when the horse suddenly lunged forward.

"No!" he shouted, knowing exactly what was going to happen. Even he himself would have had a problem staying in the saddle, let alone his petite wife. He spurred his own mount on in a desperate attempt to reach her and save her but all he could do was to watch her fall, helpless to save her.

Seconds later, both he and Anthony were at her side. William leaped to the horse, trying to take control of the animal before it could cause any more damage.

"Mary? Mary!" Charles screamed, gently moving his trembling hand to her face, but he was too afraid to touch her. Anthony pushed his hands away and lowered his head above her face. A smile of relief lightened his face when on his cheek felt the waft of air- her breath.

"She's breathing" he announced. "Charles, she's breathing."

Mary coughed and gasped as her eyelids fluttered. She'd been riding and all of a sudden, her horse had gone mad. She couldn't help but fall. Still, what a shame! She could hear voices calling her. One was particularly familiar. It was a nice voice, it was promising her safety.

"Mary?" Charles repeated, seeing that she was regaining consciousness. "Please Princess, open your eyes for me" he begged, only half joking.

"Charles" she identified his voice before even opening her eyes.

"Welcome back princess" he smiled relived seeing her opened eyes and clear gaze.

"I fell off a horse, didn't I? I'm so sorry." she said, ashamed.

"It's nothing, my lady, it could have happened to anyone." Anthony tried to comfort her

"Are you in pain? Have you hurt yourself?" Charles asked, while moving his hands over her shoulders, searching for fractures.

"No, I'm fine" Only now did Mary realise how she had to look, lying crumpled on the ground with two men leaning over her. Mortified she tried to get up, but Charles's strong hand stopped her. Gently he helped her to sit up and moved so that she could lean against him. With his left hand he held by the waist to keep her dress in place while using the skilful fingers of the right one to loosen her bodice which, no matter how improper the gesture was, Mary accepted with gratitude. At least she could breathe. Anthony understood the silent command and gently inspected her ankles.

"The Duchess is safe and sound." he winked at her

Charles nodded his head and gently swept her hair aside looking for a head wound. From previous experience he knew that it could turn out to be more dangerous than broken bones.

"Oww" she hissed hiding her face in his chest when his fingers came across the throbbing spot.

"I'm sorry." he whispered stroking the cut and moving her hair which had escaped her braid and caught on his beard "I'm very sorry ". He lowered his lips and kissed the wound, wishing he could take her pain away.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. It was my fault, not yours. Just a stupid accident. I haven't fallen off a horse since I was a child." she admitted, her voice trembling as it started to dawn upon her what could have happened, had she been unlucky. She could have died. That could have been her last day on earth.

Charles continued stroking her head soothingly, even when William approached them. Compton's face was hardened in the grimace of fierce anger. Before Charles managed to ask about it William opened his fist showing them a big bent nail which had been stuck under the saddle.

Charles immediately stiffened. Mary was wrong, it was not an accident. Sensing the change in his posture, Mary started to raise her head from his chest, but his hand on her neck kept her in place until William hidden the evidence in his pocket. She didn't need to know that someone had wanted her dead. They would deal with it later.

"I believe the Duchess has had enough for one day, it's time we got back home." Anthony suggested, getting up and stretching out his arms in a silent offer, but Charles only shook his head.

"Put your hands around my neck." he instructed his wife as he twisted her in his lap and, when she did so, he easily got up with her in his arms. She was as light as a child.

"What about the horse?" Mary asked worried about the poor animal.

"The horse is fine my lady, I'll take care of him." William assured her.

"But still " Mary tried to speak more but at that moment her husband tightened his grip on her

"Enough . We need to get you home, Mary. You may not have broken anything, but you're shaken up and you'll be pretty bruised too, I don't doubt. You need to rest. Upon hearing his tone, Mary fell silent. It appeared that the worried and caring man who had coddled her in his arms only a minute ago had disappeared and been replaced by this furious brute, who was glaring around and barking orders, the veins on his neck and temple pulsing dangerously. She hoped that it wasn't because of her clumsiness. After all, she hadn't wanted to fall off her horse. Hesitantly, Mary went quiet. She clamped her hands on his neck and buried her face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. She didn't want Bradgate's residents to see her like that. Charles pressed his cheek against her ruffled hair and mumbled some incomprehensible words before they all entered the estate. At the sight of the Duchess's scratched and bruised form, Mrs Nurrows almost fainted. Immediately she called the housemaids and prescribed a hot bath and herbs which would help their poor Lady. She kept talking and ordering people around, all the time glaring at the three men. They should have prevented it from happening!

Charles could not disagree with her. Leaving his wife in her efficient hands, he went to the stables, taking his friends with him. Silently, he turned the nail that William had found over in his hands. It was slippery with blood which meant that Mary's weight had dug it into the horse's back and that was what had caused the whole accident.

"Who saddled the Duchess's horse?" he asked severely, when all the stablemen stood before him. The news about the accident had already spread all over the estate and now each of them was afraid of the Duke's anger.

"It was me Master" Ian moved ahead. Charles and Anthony exchanged quick glances.

The old man had been serving at Bradgate as long as Mrs Nurrows had and he adored horses. They would rather believe that he had killed a man in cold blood than that he had been the one who hurt the horse. Charles dismissed the remaining stablemen and turned to Ian.

"Do you have any idea how this could end up under my wife's saddle?" he asked showing the older man the nail he was holding.

Ian's Adam's apple flickered, and his face reddened with anger at the fact that somebody had dared to harm one of his horses.

"No, My Lord. It wasn't there when I saddled the horse up. I swear on all the sanctities." he vowed "but I did leave the horse alone when I went to saddle horses for the remaining guests. People were getting impatient in the courtyard, Sir." he completed unsteadily, reproaching himself for his own stupidity. He shouldn't have left the Duchess's horse. He shouldn't have.

Charles nodded, accepting his explanation. He believed Ian, but who could have done it? And most importantly why? Had they wanted to kill Mary or just frighten her? Was it a real attempt on her life or merely a warning?

"Charles, if you let us stay a bit longer we will question the servants and try to get to the bottom of this." Anthony suggested when Charles dismissed Ian after forbidding him to mention the real cause of the accident to anybody.

"Thank you" Charles rested his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Forgive me now, but I must see how Mary's doing."

"You really care for her, don't you?" Anthony stated quietly.

"Of course I do. It's my duty to protect her." Charles said quickly

"If you say so."

Without another word, Charles moved toward the stairs. Although Mrs Nurrows assured him that the Duchess was well and was preparing to get some rest he simply had to make sure. The picture of her falling and then lying motionless on the grass was haunting him. He entered her bedchamber for the first time since their marriage day and, with a gesture, sent servants away. Mary had bathed and now dressed in a white nightdress, which was tightly covering her body, stood opposite her husband, unsure as to what his visit could indicate. Was he still angry?

"I wanted to ask how you were."

She smiled at his words, relieved that he was not here to yell at her.

"I'm quite well" she answered and, seeing his disbelieving gaze, slightly shrugged her shoulders. "All right, if you must know, I'm a little sore." she admitted quietly.

Charles's eyes snapped to her creamy shoulder which was exposed due to the move and the change in clothes. He clenched his teeth at the sight of the dark spot on her light skin and covered the distance between them in two steps. From close up the bruise looked even worse. It was a sign, a symbol of his failure.

"Does it hurt?" he asked raising his hand and gently moving his thumb over the bruise.

Mary trembled. His deep voice and tender caress completely disarmed her. She wanted him to hug her, to cuddle her to him like he had done before, so she could feel safe and protected. But they had their boundaries, and she couldn't pass them.

Charles noticed her shivering and without a word pulled her toward the bed.

"It's getting cold, and it's been a long day, you really should rest." he drew the bedding aside, making room for her. Mary quickly slipped into the middle. She knew she should have dried her hair first, but she was simply too tired to do that; the bed looked so good, so inviting. Meanwhile, Charles took the the blanket and covered her up, tucking it around her shoulders.

"Warmer?" he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed. He couldn't bring himself to leave her chamber, no matter how many times he told himself to do so. He wasn't able to. As long as he could look at her, he knew that she was safe, that nothing bad had happened.

His hand moved to her head and he frowned.

"Do you want to get pneumonia?" he scolded her. Mary's lips trembled, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. She knew that she should have undone her hair, but she didn't want to do it when he was there. This action seemed to be so... intimate. Worried that her behaviour would only intensify his anger, she reached for the ribbon, but Charles was faster.

"Why do women insist on wearing their hair long?" he griped while his fingers cautiously spread her wet hair on the pillow.

"Because we want to be beautiful?" Mary suggested shyly, unnerved by his proximity. It was strange to be so close to this man, to let him touch her hair like that. She could feel his long fingers in her hair and suddenly remembered how they had felt when he had loosened up her bodice and when she had lain curled in his arms.

"You already are." he muttered and Mary blushed, averting her gaze. When he was through with his task he covered her with the extra blanket.

"You need to sleep now. Mrs Nurrows said the herbs would help."

Obediently she closed her eyes, but when she felt him begin to get up, raw instinct won against courtesy and her hand convulsively clenched on his sleeve.

"Please... Don't leave me here. I don't want to be alone" she whispered. She was still in shock over what could have happened, still afraid.

Charles gently patted her hand, loosening the fingers that were clenched round his robes.

"Where did you get that idea? Of course I'm staying. I will be here, by the fireplace, you don't have to be afraid." Charles pointed to the comfy armchair next to the room's large fireplace.

Mary calmed down instantly.

"Sleep." Charles repeated, but this time he couldn't resist temptation. He bent and gently kissed her smooth forehead, then turned back quickly, before his treacherous body could betray him. Rigid with anxiety, she watched his back until he actually sat down. She smiled, she shouldn't have worried. Her husband was a man of his word.

She could be happy here. That thought surprised Mary. She could be happy as just another lady, a nobleman's wife. Not a Queen, not a Princess. Just a nobleman's wife. She could be truly happy, here in this house, among people who cared about her, who looked after her. She could be happy here with him, a man almost twice her age, with strong arms and a delicate touch. Her eyes glided to her husband. But... Mary shook. Could she even consider it? Could she forget about who she was? Her mother, her poor mother had suffered so terribly just so that she, Mary, could keep her status. So that she could continue to call herself the Princess of Wales, the future Queen of England.

Charles listened to her breathing. He easily noticed when she fell asleep. Theoretically, he should have taken the chance to leave. It wouldn't make any difference, Mary slept calmly. Yet he sat in the armchair rubbing his chin. Despite what he had told Anthony, he knew that his friend had been right. Mary had changed from a simple obligation. She had become someone important to him; he was becoming attached to her. It wouldn't have been a problem if his feelings had stayed platonic, but in fact they were far from that. He noticed many things about her. Her skin was so soft to the touch, and her smell seemed to cling to him. And her face. Good heavens, every man who looked at her face had to wonder exactly how those raspberry lips would taste. Charles rubbed his eyes. He wasn't going to lie to himself. He wanted her, as any hot-blooded man would want a woman. When he made himself aware of that, he turned his head to look at her petite figure huddled in the bed. She trusted him, she slept so calmly because she trusted him the way she would trust her defender or brother, not a lover. Charles cursed himself. There was a completely rational explanation for this. It had simply been too long since he had had a woman to warm his bed. In Bradgate he didn't want to take a girl to his bed knowing as he did that it would be an offense to his wife, and his body, not used to celibacy, had decided to rebel against his mind. But he was too old to let himself be driven by those kinds of urges. Mary might be his wife in name, but she was still just a girl. She would never trust him again if he insisted on taking his conjugal rights. No. In practice, she had to stay his ward. Nothing more than that. Nothing.


	11. 11

Thomas More swallowed the small amount of water given to him by his wife with a great effort. His throat was still sore, aching after the series of retches that the physicians had extorted from him. He couldn't hold that against them, however. They had been saving his life. With a sigh of relief, he lowered his tired head to the pillows and attempted to smile at his worried wife.

"I'd like you to stay home, you are still sick." She tried once more, pleadingly "Your body needs to recover, you should rest."

They had already gone through this conversation a few times and, although she knew that he wouldn't let her persuade him, she still had to try. For his own sake, for the sake of their children, their family, their home.

"You know that I must, I won't refuse the King and I won't hide"

"You go back to Court and you will pay the price! We all will pay it! I beg you! For the sake of our children, think about it!"

He took her hand and raised it to his mouth "Alice, I love you and I love our children, but I can't betray my God, my faith and my beliefs. Not even for you, not even for them. What kind of a man would I be if I yielded in fear of the consequences?"

"A safe one!"

His wife wiped her eyes. Despite herself, she couldn't blame him for his decision. He was himself; he was the straightforward, good and honourable man she had fallen in love all those years ago.

"Do you have any news of Bishop Fisher?" Thomas asked and his wife nodded.

"His condition was far worse than yours. The physicians stated that he had ingested a larger dose of poison. He's alive but he's still very weak."

"His body may be weak, but I believe that his spirit is still as strong as ever."

"You're right. He just sent a servant with the message. He writes that he will be at the parliament summoned by King Henry if it is the last thing he does. He also said he hoped to meet you there.

"You see, Alice? I can't decline if Bishop Fisher himself summons me." Thomas coughed before continuing "And what about Cromwell's investigation? Has he caught the culprit?"

"Yes he did. The cook's helper admitted to poisoning the bowl of soup. He was sentenced to death immediately. He'll be boiled alive in the morning."

"May God have mercy on his soul." With that, More went silent. Once again a simple helpless peasant would pay for the sins of a great magnate. All in the name of justice. That thought tasted even bitterer than poison.

* * *

Cromwell gazed at the papers spread before him with unseeing eyes. The convicted prisoner's screams as he had been dipped into boiling water still rang in his ears, filling his soul with anger. He wasn't naive; he knew very well that only a handful of people in England would have such influence and that kind of degree of hatred towards Thomas More and Bishop Fisher to go so far as actually attempting to kill both of them. In fact those two men were beloved and respected by almost everyone.

But there was one family who saw them as obstacles. He had had his suspicions from the beginning, but unfortunately his hands were tied. The fool who had died today was nothing more than a tool in the skilful hands of a powerful family. Cromwell angrily crumpled a sheet of paper and dropped it on the floor. It wasn't the attack that made him so angry; after all, if the King had ever issued such an order, he would have killed both Fisher and More himself, no matter what his own feeling might be. The problem was that the King hadn't given such an order, and it meant that the Boleyns had felt mighty enough to go behind his back, and that made Cromwell less then pleased. If they dared to try something like that, it was obvious that they knew no boundaries whatsoever. That they were ready to do anything; even if it could harm the King, even if it could incur riots within the country or war with Spain; with the Emperor, the mightiest monarch in Christendom!

The Boleyn way of not caring for anyone or anything apart from their own good wasn't something Cromwell liked. He reached for another sheet of paper and scribbled a few words to the guards at the More. From that day on he ordered to strengthen the protection around Queen Catherine's household. Her life was the King's to decide on. The Emperor could – and, if one read between Chapuys's words, most probably would - turn a blind eye to the matter of his Aunt's marriage being declared null and void but he certainly wouldn't do that to her murder. They were at a stalemate. While Catherine lived, Anne and her family wouldn't stop threatening her, but as long Catherine was safe, England wasn't threatened by the possibility of war with Spain.

* * *

Charles closed the letter delivered by the King's messenger. He felt like cursing or hitting something. So the calm days spent on joyful conversations, banters and strolls with Mary around Bradgate's gardens were over. He was summoned to Court, to Parliament. He didn't even have to guess what they would be debating; the other letter, written by Cromwell and signed by King Henry himself, explained everything to him. And now he was in a quandary. Objecting meant serious consequences for him and all Bradgate's residents. A few days ago he'd had a chance to face what crossing the Boleyns could result in. Mary's body still bore the signs of their attack. The attack which was almost successful in spite of all his vigilance and determination.

The fact that Anthony, after some efforts, had managed to establish the appearance of the likely perpetrator of the accident was a flimsy solace, since the man had disappeared with the last guests. They knew what he looked like... and knew where to search for him- amongst the paid servants of Anne's family but it didn't solve the problem at all.

And then there was Mary. He had a strong premonition that his decision wouldn't sit too well with her.

With a heavy sigh, Charles got up from a chair and went seeking his wife.

"And what about you?" Mary asked him simply, when he had presented her with the letters " How are you going to vote? "

Charles sighed; his next words would anger her.

"I will support the King" he announced.

"The king and his harlot! You will support the dishonouring of my mother! The dishonouring of me!" Mary shouted, furious, feeling as though he was betraying her.

"Mary, sweetheart, you have to understand, I can't act any differently." He approached her warily, trying to explain , wanting, no, needing her to understand what he was about to do, but Mary raised her hand stopping him in his tracks.

"No, there is nothing left to explain, Your Grace." His title tasted bitter in her mouth "I understand perfectly. After all, you always do what the King wants you to do, so I wish you a good journey!"

She spun on her heel, preparing to run from the room, but he caught her arm, forcing her to stay where she was.

"What do you expect me to do? What should I do according to you? Tell me!" he yelled, angered both by her obstinacy and his own helplessness.

"You want me to oppose the King? To vote against the Act and end up in the Tower? Is that what you want, _Princess_?" He gripped her shoulders, barely stopping himself from shaking her. He wanted to tell her everything; about the failed attempt on her life, about the poisoning of Bishop Fisher and Thomas More, about all the dangers which lurked around them, but he couldn't. He wasn't able to. Staring at her lovely pale face and sapphire eyes, in which anger fought with tears, he couldn't bring himself to hurt her even more. He only wanted to protect her, even if he had to act against her will.

Mary shut her eyes, stopping herself from seeing the way his pupils were dilated with anger, but it didn't help. She could still hear his angered voice. He was right; she knew that opposing the King at that moment would mean certain imprisonment.

For his part, Charles couldn't believe she was being so stubborn. Even Chapuys had told her about her father's temper at the moment and warned her not to be surprised when the day came that her mother's marriage would be put under question. Why couldn't she just come to terms with it? Why did she expect him to be able to do something as impossible as changing her father's mind; changing the King's mind. She wanted Charles to be her knight in shining armour, capable of defeating every dragon that Fate threw at him, at both of them, but why?

"Forget it. I must go I'll leave at once." he said, frowning. His hands left her arms and Mary shivered, suddenly feeling cold. He turned his back on her and went to the door, his shoulders drooping with exhaustion. There was nothing he could say to make her see his reasons. He left without a backward glance.

If he had turned to her before leaving he would have seen her ashen face; the small hand that she reaching out to him. But he didn't. He left, and she was once again alone.

All of a sudden, despite all the training she'd had in how to control her emotions, her defences broke and Mary collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably as her legs gave way.

* * *


	12. 12

Staring at the triumphant, smiling Anne who was standing at Henry's side, calmly promising him her undying love and obedience, Charles felt as though his intestines were turning into shivering acrid jelly. The world he knew had officially ended, while the future remained completely unknown; black grease which was smeared all over him; not allowing him to move, blocking every step and threatening to tear him down and drown him with the next wave. He preferred not to imagine the coronation; the one Anne and the King were planning with such fervour. As the situation required, he forced his lips upward into a joyful smile as the priest completed his prayers and blessed the union. Anne, clearly practicing the role of the gracious monarch, nodded to him, only to immediately ignore him in favour of the other witnesses, such as her own father who was the very picture of humility as he bowed to his King's new wife and Queen. Having had enough of this farce, Charles was relieved to follow the King aside.

"I'm glad you arrived in time to participate in the ceremony, your presence and your friendship means a lot to me, Charles." Henry cordially hugged his friend.

"Your Majesty, it is an honour for me to be here by your side." The smooth words flowed quickly, leaving the bitter taste of a lie in Charles's mouth.

"Yes, it's a great day isn't it? I also want you to be here on Anne's coronation day and I want it to be perfect. " It was not a request, it was an order, so Charles didn't even blink in protest, but only nodded his head, thanking the King for his confidence in his abilities.

"But before it… before it all," Henry hesitated for a moment and Charles frowned. The King wasn't well-known for hesitating " Before it happens, I have one more task for you; a very valid task, one that's extremely important." Henry was clearly distressed, as he continued in a hushed tone "Lord Wiltshire already declared his willingness to take care of it but I would prefer you to do it."

"I will fulfil any order Your Highness sees fit to give me, Sire."Brandon assured him.

"The matter, you see, well, it's about... about Catherine, somebody must notify her of the change of her status and about…" Henry gestured around the chapel "about everything that has happened, so that she will finally abandon all her ridiculous hopes of being reinstated as Queen. I would send Cromwell, but he is needed here because of the coronation"

"Please, my King, leave it to me. I'll take care of that."

"You're a true friend." Henry squeezed Charles's shoulder and moved towards his new and clearly impatient wife.

"Don't worry, Your Majesty, your daughter is well although she's angry with me and misses you and her mother very much." Charles whispered when the doors closed behind the King and his retinue. Henry hadn't asked about Mary, not even once.

* * *

"They say that it's better to hear the bad tidings from the lips of a friend rather than an enemy." Catherine lifted her head proudly, staunching tears.

Charles could only shrug his shoulders. He didn't see the difference. Bad tidings were always bad, no matter who brought them.

"I'm sorry, My Lady " he stated stiffly, not sure what else he could do. King Henry had ordered him to return to Court immediately, but at looking down upon the ailing and pale face of the former Queen, he couldn't bring himself to just walk away.

"Don't you worry, my friend, it's always darkest just before the dawn."

Charles looked at her in disbelief. She was comforting him? She, who had just received such a devastating blow from her husband, a man who had promised her everlasting love and respect, was trying to console him.

"But if you could spare me a moment of your time, I would like to hear about my daughter." Catherine asked almost shyly, indicating the chair standing opposite her in silent invitation. It wasn't an order, only a tentative request, and Charles could not bring himself to refuse her.

"Your daughter has settled into Bradgate very well, she started to change it into a real home almost immediately and she loves the gardens." he started, sitting down "and my people already adore her with all their hearts. Mary shone brighter than any star on the night of our wedding feast. She's a true English Rose."

Catherine smiled proudly.

"She seems to be happy, as happy as circumstances allow, anyway." He shook his head to drive away gloomy thoughts "although she is not, perhaps, always pleased with me."

Catherine frowned. It wasn't just the words it was the tone he used. He sounded broken.

"She wanted you to oppose the King." Catherine sighed. It was disturbing just how much Mary's obstinacy resembled her father's. Charles dipped his head, waiting for bitter words of disappointment, but they never came. Instead, Catherine gently reached out and touched her hand to his unruly hair.

"Charles, you couldn't have done it. You couldn't have opposed the King. God knows how hard it was for me to do so and I was the Queen, the Queen of England. It was the King's will, you had to listen, there was no other choice. "

"No! That's not true." Charles denied, breaking away from her, unable to listen to her soothing words "I could have protested like More, like bishop Fisher! I could have voted against the divorce! Like they did! They acted true to their conscience and I... "

Mary was right, he was a coward. Catherine couldn't watch his anguish. She understood, oh, she understood only too well, the emotions that tormented him, but these emotions could kill him and then who would protect Mary? Above all she needed to protect Mary.

"You are right. Those two brave souls chose to fight a lost battle. They chose the road that could easily lead to their doom. You, my dear friend, you chose life; life with my daughter at your side." She came up to him with an effort and took his face in her hands "There is nothing wrong in a desire to live, Charles, in a longing for plain, calm, existence. Not everyone must be martyrs."

Charles looked at her, amazed by her words. Catherine gave him a sad smile and slowly returned to her seat. Walking taxed her already poor health. Breaking free from his lethargy he ran up to her and guided her to it.

"Charles? Do you love my daughter?" she asked him while he was busy making sure that she was comfortable.

Brandon looked at her stunned, unable to stammer out a single word. Love? He knew nothing about love. After all, he had killed the one person who might have shown him how to love anyone!

"I... Madam, I…" He struggled to find the appropriate words to properly describe his feelings towards Mary: attachment, protectiveness, sympathy, desire, a primal want to protect her, possessiveness

"That's good" Catherine dropped the matter, satisfied by his silence. "Mary will need it in her life, whether she'll carry out her destiny and becomes a Queen or whether she merely remains Duchess of Suffolk."

"Certainly, if Fate was to reverse and Mary to ascend to the throne, there will be many a suitable and experienced person by her side who would be able to help her bear such a weight of responsibility."

Instantly, he knew he had made a mistake, for Catherine glared at him " There will be only one man next to Mary, no matter whether she's at Court as a Queen Regnant, at Court as Her Grace the Duchess of Suffolk, or at Bradgate, and that's you " she stated "It's not my concern whether your marriage was already consummated or if you gave yourselves time to adjust to the situation" Catherine blushed lightly at those words, "but when you promised to wed my daughter, you took on an obligation to stand by her both in sickness and in health for the rest of your life. You and my daughter were joined in holy matrimony before God, and that's a bond only He can break, by summoning one of you to join him in His Eternal Kingdom."

Charles could only look at her, speechless. All his previous plans and ideas just flew out of the window.

* * *

It was 2 weeks before he finally was allowed to go home. Two weeks filled with duties assigned to him by the King, games in which, frankly, he didn't want to participate, toasts to the honour of the new Queen which he didn't want to raise, and all that time Catherine's words resounded through his head. He thought about what to do with that new competence; what to do with the sudden awareness, that he and Mary were bonded forever.

"Is it done?" Her voice startled him. They were the first words she said to him since their angry goodbye but right now her was voice wasn't angry, it was sad, lifeless, deprived of any emotion. She stood in the door of his bedroom like a marble statue and looked at him with dull eyes.

He easily noticed the traces of rinsed tears upon her gently rounded cheeks, her red and puffy eyes and the worry, fear and bitterness emanating from her too slim figure. He recalled that Mrs Nurrows had said upon his arrival that the Duchess had hardly eaten at all during his absence.

"It's done." he said calmly, uncertain of her reaction.

Mary nodded and turned in order to leave; to cry herself to sleep in the privacy of her own bed, but her exhausted body rebelled against her. "I am a nobody now, nothing, a bastard." she stammered out. "He did it, he really did it." Standing in the middle of her husband's room, she shivered with loneliness.

Not knowing what to do, Charles came up to her and turned her to him, placing his hands on her shoulders, hoping to soothe her with his touch.

"You are not a nobody, no matter how much the Lady Pembroke wants you to be. You are my wife and the Duchess of Suffolk."

"For how long? Until you decide to annul this marriage? The same way my father annulled his marriage to my mother?" she shouted, unable to bear his false concern any longer. He didn't care about her; nobody cared about her. "You're just like him! You will get rid of me at the first chance you have!" She broke down, punching him wildly, beating his chest with her fists "I hate you! I hate you!"

By now, she was gasping for breath.

"Shh" Charles grasped her shaking figure, hugging her body to his and trying to absorb her pain "You know that's not true. Shh now. Listen to me dear, calm down, you are my wife, my beautiful wife." he whispered endearments into her hair trying to quieten her.

Feeling that her shaking had ceased, he risked loosening his grip in order to raise her face to his.

"Look at me darling" he whispered, his thumbs rubbing calming circles on her reddened cheeks, and when she finally fulfilled his request, he promised, looking directly into her tear-stained eyes, "You are the Lady Mary Brandon _nee_ Tudor, Duchess of Suffolk. You are my wife, now and forever. Nothing and nobody will ever change that. I swear to you before God that no one will ever change that."

* * *


	13. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BETAED BY wonderful Lady Eleanor Boleyn!

Standing in front of the mirror, Mary looked critically at her slender figure, attired in a virginal white night gown. She bit her lip for a moment, trying to decide whether she should let her hair down, or leave it braided up. Nervously she twisted the ribbons of the nightgown around her fingers. She looked older and more respectable with her hair up, but she'd probably be prettier with it loose. Was she pretty? She'd never thought about it until now. Whether her husband regarded her as such? Did it matter to him? Would he keep her? Admittedly, he had told her yesterday that she would always be his wife, but her father had also once told her that she would always be the pearl of his world and where was that promise now?

She warded off gloomy thoughts. Tonight, for once, she didn't want to think about her father, for tonight she had another purpose. She might no longer be, in the eyes of the law, Mary Tudor Princess of Wales and heiress to the throne of England, but she was, as Charles had pointed out to her yesterday, the Duchess of Suffolk. She was Bradgate's mistress and, although that title had been imposed on her along with her husband, she found that she didn't want to give it up. She didn't want to resign from it, not from Bradgate and it residents, and certainly not from Charles. This last she had only admitted to herself during those lonely weeks after his departure. When he had left without saying a word and not gracing her with even a glance, he who, up until that point, had had nothing but kind words and tenderness for her, she had felt as if something in her had died. She had been so scared, so afraid that she had lost him; that through her own stupidity she had let her only friend walk away from her; walk out of her life. For weeks she had been awaiting a message in his hand; a message saying that she had been declared a nobody; that she was neither the King's daughter nor Charles's wife. That neither her father nor her husband had wanted her. It would have been so easy for Charles. After all not consummating the marriage was excellent grounds for an annulment. He would have been able to find someone to fall in love with then, someone who wouldn't bring nothing but problems; who would be able to be a good wife, who would give him the heir he surely craved; all nobles wanted a male heir. Even when she had gone to him yesterday, she had been sure that he had come back just to tell her to pack up her belongings, to tell her that she didn't belong there. But then he had surprised her one more time. Instead of the outcry of rage she had been expecting, he had once again shown her goodness, tenderness and understanding. That was why she had made the important decision that she had. Charles received nothing from their marriage, nothing except for additional worries, expenses and Boleyn's hatred. She could change none of that, but she could give him a wife and a home. Her mother wouldn't have objected, Mary was sure. After all, it had been Catherine who had chosen Charles. Provided that he wanted it, that he wanted her to be his wife, she would.

Screwing up her courage, Mary slipped from her bedchamber and very lightly tapped on his door. When she heard his voice she moved the heavy door forward and came in, into the room, which- she hoped- she would soon have the right to call her own. Surprised by her appearance, Charles watched her, waiting for an explanation. Mary looked dreadfully upset. Had something happened? A bad dream, perhaps?

"Mary? Is something wrong? " he asked coming up closer. He had only just come back from his tour of the estate and still had his riding clothes on. When he came up close, Mary was able to smell him, he smelt of the stable and fresh air and safety; a smell that she had come to identify as purely Charles.

"I..." Mary hesitated.

What in Heaven's name did one say in this sort of situation?

_I want to share your bed? I want to be your wife in every sense of this word? I want you_ _to give me a chance?_

"Mary?" Now he was really beginning to worry.

He had seen her happy, tormented with pain and he had seen her angry but he had never seen her so hesitant, not even on their wedding day. Deciding that acts would be a better solution to her predictament than words, Mary dropped her head as she reached for the ribbons that tied the neckline of her nightdress and gently started undoing the knots, annoyed with her suddenly clumsy fingers.

Alerted by her movements, Charles caught her hands. He didn't know what was happening, but he wasn't ready to watch her changing before him. He was only a man for God's sake, even if she treated him like a eunuch.

"Mary, what are you doing?" he lashed out, his voice thick with conflicting emotions while correcting the gown which had started slipping off the pale shoulders.

Shocked by his tone, Mary raised her head, her face whiter then snow.

"You aren't pleased with me " her eyes misted over with tears and the entire diminutive figure shivered with humiliation. " Forgive me , I thought that, but... I am not good enough, you aren't pleased with me. "

Mary felt like a fool. What had she expected? She was just a silly little girl without any experience who was dismissed by her own father. Why would Charles want her if nobody else had? He was good to her, true, but he pitied her. Pitied her, that was all.

"What?" Charles gasped, shocked, and he tightened his grip on her arms as she tried to break free "What are you talking about, Mary? Maria? My Maria?"

He pressed her securely to his chest, seeing her face wincing in pain he had apparently caused.

"Mary, just tell me? What's happened? What in God's name made you think I'm not pleased with you? Was it something I said or did?"

"You don't want me " Mary whispered into his shirt. "Yesterday you told me that I was your wife, but it's not real, because in actual fact you don't want me. I'm too thin, I'm too inexperienced, and you simply don't want me."

She couldn't have surprised him more if she had said that Anne Boleyn was her dearest friend.

"Oh Mary! Darling! Mary, what I told you yesterday was true. You are my wife and you will stay my wife, no matter what." he assured her, taking her face into his hands and wiping her tears away with his finger tips.

"Then why..." Mary swallowed nervously "Why did you reject me? Why did you stop me? I know what it means to be someone's wife! I was ready to give that to you and yet you stopped me."

"Mary, I want you! Oh God! You can't even imagine how much I want you." Charles chuckled "but I never wanted to force you, I didn't want you to feel obliged to do something you weren't ready to." He tried, perhaps unsuccessfully, to explain his motives.

"But what if I'm ready now? " she asked, drawing herself up and meeting his gaze.

"Are you?" He looked doubtfully at her straightened figure "Because you look like a small kitten; a kitten afraid of the big bad wolf"

"It's because I'm afraid. You see, I have no experience, apart from a few theoretical instructions from Lady Salisbury and I don't know what to do or how I should do it, and I'm afraid to disappoint you." Mary completed "But the one thing I'm not afraid of is you. I'm not afraid of you, and I want to be your wife."

Charles groaned, he was fighting a losing battle.

"Firstly, forget all the instructions Lady Salisbury ever gave you."

Though he was sure the elderly woman had meant well, he could only imagine what kind of advice the old governess had offered to her young charge, and it certainly didn't please him. "Secondly, your innocence is the most precious gift I could have received and I would only take it from you if you were absolutely sure about it... and thirdly..."

He stopped, unable to believe what was happening.

He wanted her and she came to him on her own.

She was his wife, the law was on his side. After this there would be no way back.

"Thirdly?" Mary prompted, the question dancing in her eyes.

"Thirdly," He dipped his head towards her as he spoke, "Trust me." he whispered, his mouth right by hers and then his lips lightly caressed her blushing cheek. "Trust me" he repeated, moving his lips to the corner of her mouth, "Trust me". This time, their lips touched with a touch as light as any breeze.

Charles smirked at the sight of Mary's blushing cheeks and dilated pupils. She no longer seemed terrified, now she was curious, and he would gladly exchange fear for curiosity any day. But he had to be sure; he couldn't let himself to be deceived by his senses, not tonight. He slid from her and stretched out his hand in invitation. Without thinking about it, Mary put her smaller hand in his and let him lead her to the large bed.

"I do trust you"

Mary put her hands on his neck and their mouths met in a long kiss, sharing all their hopes and fears. There was nothing but them and what was happening between their bodies and souls. Charles could not restrain himself and kissed her again, more strongly this time; with the entire hunger he felt. He hadn't been with a woman since his wedding day and now? Having the one woman he had craved in his arms; being allowed the luxury of kissing her, was almost too much for him. And she trusted him, she had told him that herself. How could he, a humble sinner, ever have been so blessed by God?

Mary succumbed to his strength with silent joy. She didn't think that the marriage obligations could be enjoyable for both parties. Charles was right, Lady Salisbury hadn't known anything. His mouth and hands wandering on her body sealed his prior promises. She was his wife. She was Lady Mary Brandon _nee_ Tudor, Duchess of Suffolk.

It was nearly dawn when he heard the words he had been waiting for escape her reddened, swollen lips; when he got his sign; his assurance that he wouldn't hurt her any more than was strictly necessary.

"Please" Mary gasped, when an urgent longing for air forced their lips apart, breaking the kiss. Charles leaned his forehead on hers "Are you sure? This the last chance to change your mind. After that you're mine, Maria" he warned her, clenching his hands around her waist. It was the last moment he could withdraw – though he was certain that her forcing him out of her would kill him instantly.

"Good" she smiled. That was what she craved - belonging, the sense of being wanted, needed "I like being yours" she smirked, before she rose to meet him, seeking another kiss.


	14. 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BETAED BY wonderful Lady Eleanor Boleyn!

Mary looked down at the blood-stained sheets, fighting back tears. They were a symbol of her failure. She'd failed again. She'd failed, the blood on the white bedclothes was the garish proof. Charles had never spoken about children, but he was a noble and every noble wanted an heir. Everyone knew that. She lowered her hand to her still pitifully empty womb. It had been three months since she started sharing her husband's bed. Three months of waiting for any signs of a child. In vain. Was she damned? Had somebody cursed her? Was she supposed to suffer the same fate as her poor mother and never bear a living son? And if that was indeed her fate, what would Charles do? What would he need her for? Mrs Nurrows was a better housekeeper than she was. Her primary duty as his wife was to provide him with a healthy, living, legitimate son. Mary shuddered, although the chamber was warm. No matter what Mrs Nurrows said to her about conceiving requiring time; despite all her reassurances, Mary still couldn't stop shaking with fear. After all Boleyn's harlot of a daughter had fallen pregnant almost at once, even before her marriage ceremony with the King, and she? She was failing!

Mary furiously tore the sheets off the bed, rolling them up into a ball and throwing them into the corner, biting her lip hard to stop herself crying.

* * *

"Your Majesty, I beg you on the Dowager Princess's behalf, please reconsider your decision. Her request is nothing more than the plea of a mother who wishes to see her only daughter," Ambassador Chapuys once again pulled out the letter written in Queen Catherine's hand towards the King in hope that this time his request would be acknowledged. Maybe if the King read the message he would change his mind.

"Nonsense!" Henry sprang up from his seat, wanting to be further away from anything connected to the woman he had set aside. "Catherine will never be just mother! And Mary won't ever just be her daughter, Excellency! Their meeting could be harmful to England's interests! To my interests!

"Your Majesty, I implore you," the ambassador protested once more sensing that he was rapidly nearing a fine line. If he crossed it, at best he would be dismissed from Court and at worst, imprisoned, but he had given the Queen his word that he would try. "The Dowager Princess has never once tried to harm you, nor has the Duchess of Suffolk. Both of them have never done anything but follow Your Grace's commands."

"Catherine has her pride and her courage! Do you take me for a fool ambassador?! You think I'll believe that the woman who dared oppose me in front of the entire country, the woman who repeatedly disregarded my wishes and my will, the woman who never yielded to anybody has suddenly changed to a humble shadow of her former self?! You think that I'll believe for a second that given a chance, with her daughter beside her, she won't try to gather armies and start a war like the one her mother Isabella fought in Spain?" Henry roared furiously, suddenly remembering all those occasions when, standing opposite Catherine, he had found himself losing. All those moments when her quiet deliberation and reason had won out over his anger and temper.

Chapuys closed his mouth. It was an undeniable truth that Catherine didn't lack the courage and by God, in his opinion she should have acted that way the day the King had demanded his divorce. But she had not; she never would because of the love she felt both for the ungrateful King and his country. She hadn't done anything that would oppose the King for years, not apart from remaining true to her conscience. So why was the King so afraid of her? Or maybe it wasn't her he was scared of, but rather his own conscience?

* * *

Anne had never believed in the strength of prayer, talismans, amulets or the holy relics which the clerics sold to the people. She knew too well, what they were; cheap trinkets, through which the Church exercised authority over fools.

But now, now ….. She put her hands on her protruding belly. What wouldn't she give to make sure that it was a boy! The son she had promised Henry; the son, whose birth would give her the love of the people. Anne bit her lip, remembering the crowds gathered on the day of her coronation. There had been no shouts of good will, no songs, no requests for her blessing, but only that relentless silence; the eyes of the mob boring into her face and body like arrows. She was their Queen now, but they still looked at her as though she was the commonest of harlots. Even here, in her own castle, her own court, she sensed their looks, heard their whispers! Oh, nobody dared act against her openly, because would be treason, would be harshly and instantly punished, but she could feel their treacherous breath behind her back, lurking in the darkness. Her enemies, allies of Catherine and her bastard daughter ready to deliver a blow to her, the legitimate Queen of England! They were all around her, observing her every step, just waiting for her to fail.

Her father glared at her and Anne smiled, pretending to observe the dancing ladies, but her hands were still on her belly and, for the first time in ages, a fervent prayer resonated within her.

* * *

Charles lay in the large bed on his side with his head propped on his arm, watching Mary's face and waiting out her silence. Through the last three months of living together and sharing themselves he managed to get to know her moods a little better and knew that if something troubled her he had to wait for her to speak first. His own attempts to find the cause of her distress would do no good. That was just the way she was. Therefore, he watched her small fingers playing with silk tassels and her white teeth worrying her lips without a word. Charles smiled, secretly amazed by his wife. She had turned out to be a most willing apprentice. Shy and withdrawn, she had had to learn at first, that it was nothing wrong to feel want and express it. It had taken some time to convince her of that, but it had been well spent hours for him. And when she finally got overher shyness, Charles smiled with satisfaction, well, her heated Spanish blood was able to melt even him, the most experienced lover in England. He laughed inwardly, wondering whether it was God's revenge for all the years he had spent in sin, his downfall coming in the shape of an innocent Princess like it had.

"Charles?" she spoke, startling him out of his musings.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, playing with her curls. He liked to touch the silky tangles spread on the pillow, to wrap them around his fingers and watch how they fell from his hands.

"I was wondering if it would matter much, if you would be disappointed, if..." Mary swallowed and lowered her eyes, hesitating again.

Charles knitted his brows. It was something more serious. He puzzled for a moment, what could torment Mary so much. They had had no news from her mother or from court. He was supposed to appear at court alone in four months, when the so-called Queen was supposed to give the birth to her son. Mary had absorbed the news about it months ago with astounding calmness, understanding what would happen when the child was born. She seemed reconciled with her fate and dared he say it, happy with him, so why was she so anxious now?

"Mary" he bent and kissed the visible furrow on her forehead, "What is it, _alma mía_? What happened?" He knew tenderness was the best way to calm her anxieties. She loved when he called her that, his deep voice making Spanish endearment even more meaningful.

"Would you mind very much if our first child was a daughter?" she asked at last

Charles looked at her surprised. He wasn't particularly shocked with the fact that she was talking with him about children. After all, he encouraged her to ask him all the questions she might have, not wanting embarrassment and modesty to come between them. But that was a question he hadn't expected.

"Child? Are you?" he asked, astonished. He was familiar with some people obsession with children but he'd never seriously considered having his own. Despite years of games and journeys, he'd always been careful not to conceive one. He wasn't exactly a father figure. But Mary clearly wanted children and now he found himself warming to the idea. With Mary for their mother, the odds were that even his children would turn out to be respectable people.

"No, no. Not yet. I only…." she tormented her lips more and sat down moving away from him "I am not pregnant yet and I don't know what I'm doing wrong and I – I'm afraid, that even if I manage to conceive I will disappoint you by giving birth to a girl." She didn't say ' _Like my mother_ ' but the words hung, heavy, in the silence.

Charles groaned. "Oh Maria" he rose and sat next to her and gently kissed her ruffled hair "Maria, dear, dear Maria, is that what you think? Is that what's been worrying you these last few days?" he asked knowing the reply.

Mary rubbed her eyes sadly "I want so much to give you a child, but I think I'm doing something wrong" she explained helplessly.

Charles's shook from contained laughter "Mary" he grabbed her and hugged her to his chest "I assure you, you're doing nothing wrong. We have only been sharing a bed for three months, we have time for children "

Mary, leaning against his chest, moved her fingers over the short hair he had there. Her husband couldn't stand nightdresses claiming them unpractical and since their first night together she has never seen him wearing one. At first it embarrassed her, but with time she had got used to the warm naked torso lying in the bed beside her. The sound of his heart beating under her ear and the strong shoulder embracing her provided the perfect protection against night fears.

"Besides I find the process of creating children a very pleasant one and I would be disappointed if we succeeded too quickly, _alma mía_ " he added heartily.

Mary flushed and hid her face in his chest. Charles was sometimes so very direct.

Charles laughed at her "I'm pleased to know that I am still able to make you blush. And to answer your question, if our first child is a daughter, I hope that she will be as beautiful as her mother," He kissed her nose when she moved her head and leaned above him to look at him.

"You really wouldn't mind? You won't be angry?"

"Mary, I'll only be angry if you decide to carry on this conversation instead of kissing your husband" he teased, pulling her face to his.

He needed to distract both her and himself because in his mind he suddenly started to imagine a little princess with Mary's baby blue eyes and curly blonde hair smiling widely at him.

* * *

"Your Majesty, it's approximately 4 months till the end of Her Majesty's pregnancy," Anne's physician reported, "The pregnancy proceeds correctly, and the Queen feels well."

Henry nodded his head. Everything was perfect. If only somebody could give him guarantees that it would be a boy. But it had to be a boy! Henry wouldn't allow himself to think otherwise. This time God had to bless him with a son. He looked at letters prepared by Cromwell notifying all the sovereigns of Europe about the birth of his son. Everything had to be perfect.


	15. 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BETAED BY wonderful Lady Eleanor Boleyn!

Mary felt miserable. For a week she had felt astrange weakness afflicting her, and her suddenly changeable moods had started to irritate her. Counting today alone, she had burst into tears at the sight of newly-blooming flowers, making her gardeners fear they had done something to displease her. The servants had started handling her with kid gloves, not knowing what could possibly make her cry again and even Charles had started scrutinizing her. Strangely only Mrs Nurrows, normally the first to panic, was acting as if everything was perfect. As if she knew the secret while the others didn't.

"My Lady, maybe you should rest" Mrs Nurrows suggested, stopping next to Mary who had just finished explaining to the gardeners where to plant new flower beds. Charles spared no expense for the purchase of new seedlings, so Bradgate's gardens were awash with all the colours of the rainbow in this exceptionally warm May.

"Rest? Oh no I've just..." Mary turned rapidly and felt her head begin to spin.

"My Lady!" Mrs Nurrows easily caught the slight figure and led her to the shadier part of the garden.

"My Lady, you really shouldn't spend so much time in the sun, especially now" she admonished gently, fanning Mary's flushed face with the help of her apron.

"Especially now? What do you mean?"

Ms Nurrows sighed "I shouldn't say anything , because I wanted Your Graces to find out for yourselves, but now," Mrs Nurrows smiled at Mary, "You're with child, My Lady"

Mary's hand almost mechanically went to her belly

"With Child? But I bled this month?" she whispered

"It happens sometimes in the early months, and all the remaining symptoms are there," the old housekeeper kneeled next to the shell-shocked Mary, "My Lady, I have experience in these matters; I wouldn't say anything if I wasn't certain, but if Your Grace wishes I will fetch a midwife. "

Mary nodded not believing her good fortune. Was it possible?

"Yes please do - but Mrs Nurrows, please don't mention this to the Duke."

She didn't want to give him any false hope, even though she felt like bursting with excitement.

A baby!

Mrs Nurrows smiled. She would say nothing to the Duke but one look at the Duchess's face glowing with happiness, her hand still subconsciously on her belly, would tell him everything.

* * *

The goblet he was holding fell to the floor with a loud clang.

"With child?" he whispered, amazed, looking at his wife's glowing face and remembering their night-time conversation from a few weeks earlier, "Are you sure?"

"Mrs Nurrows brought the midwife who confirmed it" Mary continued joyfully, waiting for his reaction. When he still didn't make a sound her smile faded, "Aren't you pleased?"

He shook himself and ran up to her in two steps, picking her up and whirling her around the room laughingly.

"I guess that explains the constant tears?" he asked jokingly, when he finally put her back on the ground.

"Yes, Mrs Nurrows says that it is normal and there are herbs which will help me overcome it" Mary caught his hand and put it on her flat belly, "A baby! Can you imagine?"

Charles kissed her deeply and hugged her. In spite of the joy he could not let himself forget about their situation. Soon he would have to leave Mary behind and go to Court in order to attend the celebrations for the birth of Anne's child. Leaving Mary alone was both difficult and dangerous, but with the child on the way? With the child which some people would consider a potential hazard and rival and others would see as salvation and the continuation of the true Tudor dynasty? It was both the worst and the best time for Mary to conceive. If the Boleyn woman had a son then all would become easier. Henry would be satisfied and with a bit of luck, he would leave Mary and their child in peace. But if Anne's child turned out to be a girl, or worse, a stillbirth, Charles was now more than ever aware of all the dangers that would surround his new family. Maybe he would manage to get Anthony or William, or better yet, both of them to stay at Bradgate to watch over Mary during his absence. He also had to leave instructions for Mrs Nurrows and strengthen the security of the estate. A child! He was going to become a father! With a tremor he realized that now he had two people relying on him for care and protection. For a man who never cared about anything and anyone that was an extreme change.

* * *

"From what I've heard congratulations are in order Your Grace. Please accept the best wishes for Yourself and the Duchess from myself and my family "Edward Seymour sounded almost sincere and Charles offered him a forced smile of gratitude. News spread fast. Only yesterday he had arrived at the court and Seymour was already one of many which congratulated him on the future child. He moved around nobles waiting in the tension, their eyes fixed on the locked up tight door leading to the Queen's chamber. He wondered how many spies had wandered around Bradgate observing residents and turning over reports. He was relieved, that he had left Mary safe under the care of his friends. Both Anthony and William had responded to his summon immediately appearing in Bradgate by the end of the week from receiving letters and pledged to protect Mary during his absence. He was also lucky that following Anthony's suggestion he had already notified Henry about recent development. He didn't tell Mary about it, because just as he predicted Henry didn't react at all to news that he was going to be a grandfather. So there was no reason to destroy her happiness. Because Mary was happy. Nobody could deny it. Her joyful smile brightened Bradgate more than the sun.

"Charles!" Henry's voice freed Brandon from boring conversations with nosy courtiers. Excusing himself he came towards the monarch.

"Charles! My friend! I'm pleased to see you! " the King called out hugging him with one arm and leading them to the small room, in which he waited for the birth of his son. Even though many magnates wanted to keep him company Henry preferred to stay with the ones he could trust, and Charles Brandon was one of few he did.

" Your Majesty" Charles regarded Henry. It was rare to see the powerful King of England in such a state. He seemed strangely brittle and almost human.

"This awaiting is tiring. It would seem that considering the number of people in there they could hurry up! "Henry laughed nervously " to think that in a minute I will see my son! "

Charles bit his tongue in order to not give away his uncertainty. In the end everything could happen, and he didn't want to be the one who said the words in the bad hour.

"And you my friend? Finally you will become a father "Henry patted him on the shoulder " it's about time! "

It didn't escaped Charles's attention, that Henry avoided uttering the name of his daughter.

"Your Majesty is too kind" Charles nodded his head gladly allowing himself to smile genuine. In spite of the initial shock he was pleased at the thought of having a child.

"You need a son to teach him knight's craft. You started to put on weight "Henry joked patting him on the non-existent belly.

" I will accept with joy whatever God chose to favor me with" Charles replied smoothly

" Of course you will. You aren't a king, a daughter will be enough for you " Henry stated with the typical arrogance " Come let's drink to that!" The King lead them to the spent hours talking and Charles was becoming tired, the King was restless.

Sudden appearance of the midwife and Cromwell was the rescue he awaited.

Henry and Charles rose, one overjoyed another worried. The single glance at Cromwell's rigit form convinced Charles that they didn't bring good news.

"Your Majesty, Her Highness the Queen gave birth to the healthy child. The Queen and the child await you My Lord" the midwife bowed low

" My son! "Henry with joy hugged standing motionless Charles

" No, Your Majesty " the midwife voice sounded dully" the Queen gave birth to the daughter "

Henry stormed out of the room with the midwife obediently running behind him. Charles fell on the chair and reached for the wine. Another long night forecast . Cromwell without the word sat down opposite him and Charles poured the drink for him. Two men measured themselves both understanding the importance of what just happened and dreading what was upon them.

* * *

Henry was accepting congratulations and flatteries from courtiers surrounding him with kind ear listening to paeans about his new daughter not even for a moment giving away the great disappointment he felt. All his plans, all aims, the entire hardship he had endured to marry Anne went for nothing. He could only find comfort in the fact that the child was healthy and physicians assured him that the Queen would be able to give birth to more children. Yes, she would give him a son next, just like she promised. Reluctantly he thought about letters which he had to send to monarchs of Europe. Both Francis and Charles surely would be delighted with the news about the birth of his daughter. He would become a laughing stock of entire Christian world. But soon, soon he would be able to laugh at them showing them his son! At the moment he commissioned to Cromwell organizations of games and feasts to honor the birth of a child. He had to convince everyone that the birth of Princess Elizabeth was a reason to celebrate, that she was now the only legitimate heir to the throne of England. He had to, if he wanted to silence unfavorable murmurs from the supporters of the old Queen.

* * *

"No, I think it was better before. If you only be that kind and move it bit to the right? "William smiled chivalrously and for the thousandth time moved the huge and rather heavy cradle so that it placing suited a mother-to-be.

Mary looked at her husband's friend with gratitude. She was aware that neither of two men understood, why the grooming of the child's room mattered so much to her but they were too well-behaved to say anything to her. Instead of it, they obediently executed her wishes doing their best to satisfy her.

"You see baby, you are not even here yet and everybody already loves you " Mary couldn't stop herself from talking softly to her child. She was sure the baby could hear her.

Even though she was just shy the fifth month her pregnancy bump was already quiet distinct due to her petite figure. Unfortunately it carried further consequences. Walking for example was starting to become an effort and she could not make more than a dozen or so steps before she needed to stop and catch her breath. Fortunately everyone in Bradgate pampered her to extreme and made sure she didn't overexert herself fussing around her every move. It could easily become annoying but Mary accepted it fully not wanting in any way to threaten the precious life which grew inside her.

"Charles won't recognize this place" William said, when in the end she determined that the cradle was set up appropriately.

Mary, upon hearing her husbands name went silent. It was one of her worries. She didn't know, when Charles would be able to come back. The first months of pregnancy spent in his company were marvelous and now in spite of the fact that she was surrounded with friends she longed for his strong shoulder, roughish smile and that warm, strong body she used to snuggled up at night.

"I'm sure he will come home soon" William assured correctly interpreting her silence and Mary smiled grateful. The question remained, when he would be free to go home. The latest news she obtained were saying that the King decided to celebrate the birth of his daughter with whole range of events which were supposed to last at least a few weeks and Charles no matter what his wishes were needed to stay there to celebrate the birth of her stepsister. To leave would have been the offense to the King. She had a stepsister. That thought was strange. Even though it was a daughter of hated Anne Boleyn Mary being on the threshold of the motherhood herself couldn't find any true animosity toward that innocent child. Besides how could she hate a child? No, the only thing Mary felt was pity, because she was confident that little Elizabeth sooner or later would suffer the same fate as her. For their father the King didn't need or want daughters he craved sons.

"Your Grace, another package just arrived!" Mrs Nurrows entered the room allowing servants to carry the parcel inside. In the last weeks it was usual at Bradgate to receive ordered supplies for nursery, therefore nobody questioned the appearance of another chest. Servants severed the bonds and Mary moved to rise the lid, she didn't remember ordering anything else, but maybe Charles did it , or perhaps in the multitude of matters she simply forgot. She didn't hear warning buzzing, therefore she yelled surprised and jumped away, when from under the raised cover a tangle of buzzing flies flew away. The eyes of those present in the room went to the center of the box where the corpses of the dog and a pup lay on straw. Both animals had their heads severed.

" Bastards!" Compton cursed loudly his hands reaching for a dagger.

Mary didn't hear it, her eyes on the terrifying sight of the headless animals.

"My Lady!" Mrs Nurrows screamed when she saw the Duchess collapsing. Before she fell Compton swiftly caught her and half- carrying half- dragging lead her away.

" God have mercy" Mrs Nurrows crossed herself, when frightened servants closed the chest.

"Go get Anthony and sent for physician!" William shouted at her not carrying about pleasantries his eyes never leaving Mary's unmoving form. She was sitting in the armchair keeping her hands on her belly as if shielding her unborn child from atrocities of their world.


	16. 16

"How is the Duchess?" William asked, when Anthony said goodbye to the physician after handing him a generously packed pouch. They had lingered in the corridor near her chamber for hours, worriedly awaiting the outcome of the examination.

"She is shaken, but there is no major damage. The physician ordered rest and said we should spare her nerves whenever possible. Keep everything calm and quiet. "

William grunted, not amused. Peace and calm?! To achieve that they would have to change Bradgate into a fortress or better yet, an island!

"This was not what we promised Charles. We didn't do our best," Anthony stated grimly, angrily staring at the chest, which was now closed, innocently hiding its ghastly contents "This is the second time we've let them outsmart us. They made us look like fools!"

"But why did they do it? Why go to all that trouble? Did they hope that she would be so horrified that she would lose the child?"

"It's a possibility, although I believe it was rather more of a warning. Reminding her who has the upper hand "

"But it doesn't make sense. They've already won!"

Anthony shook his head, wondering at William's naivety, "They would have won if Anne had given birth to a son, but since another daughter was born, " he shrugged his shoulders, "A daughter of the King is a daughter of the King, no matter who her mother, and Mary is a Princess of both English and Spanish blood, something that Elizabeth can never hope to match."

"So we are all stuck, no one has openly won yet. Will you notify Charles? He won't be happy with it, or pleased with us," William warned

"That much is obvious, but I have no choice. He has to know what happened and be even more careful and cunning than usual." Anthony patted his friend's arm. "Forgive me, but I must go. The Duchess asked me to attend her."

"What will you tell her if she demands answers?"

"I'll do my best to follow the physician's instructions and keep her calm," Anthony answered, sighing, before he knocked on the door and upon hearing the consent went inside.

"I'm pleased to see you feel better, my Lady" Anthony smiled, trying to hide his anxiety.

Mary was still very pale, but thankfully her eyes had lost that absent expression, and her lips had recovered their natural pink colour instead of their previous gray blue. Anthony regarded that as a good sign.

"Please don't try to protect me. Just tell me the truth. According to you, are we in danger?" Mary asked directly "Is that the reason Charles brought you here? Not just for company but for my protection? "

"My Lady, your husband invited us here, because he didn't want you to feel alone. And as long as me and William are here, you can feel safe," He swallowed hard, remembering his previous failures. They had been by her side and yet they hadn't managed to protect her from a fall from a horse or receiving dead animals. But she needed his reassurance now.

Mary's eyebrows rose in a silent question.

"What happened today was only an insolent joke, a poor attempt to sneer at us."

"Forgive me my Lord, but I can see nothing funny in the sight of animals without their heads. It was a threat, " Mary announced coldly, "I am not a child, don't treat me like one."

Anthony suppressed a smile. She sat on the huge bed covered up to the neck with various blankets. She looked every bit the adolescent girl.

"My Lady, forgive me. I didn't intend to offend you," Anthony stated, "I assure you that nobody will fulfil such a threat to a Duchess of Suffolk. You are safe here in Bradgate, surrounded by friends."

Nobody apart from her father, the King, Mary realised bitterly. If His Majesty ordered it, the executioners would take both her head, her child's and anyone's who even thought about defending them. Mary's eyes soared to the man who was trying to calm her down. He was risking himself too, she realised. Both he and William were putting themselves in harm's way for her sake. Charles and his friends wished to protect her and had good intentions, but she had to know the truth. She could no longer pretend that what happened at Court didn't affect her. Not now; not when she had to protect her child. She thanked Anthony and sent him away. There was one man who could – and would – tell her the truth. She reached for paper to write a letter to Ambassador Chapuys.

* * *

Charles watched as the lords obediently accepted another legal document; one imposed by the king; one which fully revolutionised English law. The Act of Succession, the Act of Supremacy, and the Act in Restraint of Appeals...it was simply incredible. But it had happened, it had happened before his very eyes. Sitting by the royal table every night he forced himself not to avert his gaze with a grimace of disgust at the sight of Thomas Boleyn's triumphant smile. He also had to stop himself from attacking the vicious man. When the news from Bradgate reached him, his first reaction had been to dash off to the chambers of the nouveau riche upstart and run him through with his sword for what he had tried to do. How dared he violate his house for the second time?! To endanger both his wife and unborn child?! To mock him?! But with a great effort Charles refrained himself. If it was only his life he had to consider he would have challenged Boleyn in the tilt yard and killed him with his bare hands, but there was Mary and their child. They would not have benefited if he had ended up in the Tower. He couldn't let the Boleyns provoke him. He needed to stay in the King's favour and to wait for the opportunity for revenge. Therefore, without any hesitation, he voted in favour of the new laws, and signed the Oath. He could not act according to his conscience and ally himself to Bishop Fisher and Thomas More because that would mean leaving Mary on her own, or even worse, leaving her as the wife of a traitor.

* * *

Robert Aske listened to the rumours, ashen-faced. Queen Catherine was in exile, Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher were in the Tower, awaiting sentencing, the King was now calling himself Head of the Church, and claiming his newborn daughter Elizabeth was his only legitimate successor. What had happened to their old good England? What dark spirit beguiled their wonderful monarch! Robert's eyes soared to the clouds which gathered above Yorkshire. It was summer, and yet a cold wind brought dark clouds above their houses, obscuring the sun. It was a bad omen.

"We must act, Robert!" The men gathered around him yelled, "We cannot allow it!"

"Act?" Aske asked "But how? What possibly can we do?!"

"We go to London! To the King!"

"To London!"

"To the king!"

Aske hid his grey head in his hands in despair. They were talking treason!

* * *

"He still refuses, even now" Henry shook his head, listening to Cromwell's report. He had hoped that after beheading Bishop Fisher, Thomas would change his mind. Therefore, he had delayed his execution. How could he defy him like this? He, his former teacher and friend! How could he oppose his King?

"Your Majesty, any further delay could provoke accusations of Your Highness being in the traitors' favour, "Thomas Boleyn stated. His whisper seeped into the ear of the King like poison, "Sir Thomas spoke against you and Princess Elizabeth. Delaying his just penalty may cause the impression that his words weren't a betrayal."

Cromwell remained silent. By objecting to taking the Oath, Sir Thomas had signed his own death warrant, but after London's reaction to the death of Bishop Fisher and the latest reports about riots in Yorkshire, he was worried the death of the well-respected former chancellor would only add fuel to the fire. But he was helpless; Thomas More was not only a supporter but also a friend of Queen Catherine. There was no way that Boleyn would let him live.

"You are right my friend, of course, further delay doesn't make sense" Henry nodded his head "Oh Thomas, do you see what you force me to?!" he whispered, signing the death sentence obsequiously planted before him.

"Another matter, Your Highness. The Duke of Suffolk asked to be allowed to leave Court," Cromwell expounded the request " His wife is expecting and the Duke would like to be by her side "

"But it is inadmissible!" Boleyn protested hotly "All lords must stay by the King's side. The celebrations haven't ended yet, there can be no exceptions!"

Henry looked at Cromwell "Did Charles sign the oath?"

"Yes Your Majesty. Indeed, he was one of the first to do so," Cromwell answered and Henry nodded happily. "Dear Charles, always so loyal."

Boleyn winced but didn't dare to protest.

"The Duchess must already be in her fifth month" Henry pondered, a strange look on his face.

"Her sixth Your Majesty" Cromwell reminded him, waiting for the decision. Henry blinked. It was strange for him to think about someone he remembered being a little girl being on the threshold of motherhood. He felt a sting in his heart upon realizing that he may never see her child.

"I agree, he's allowed to go back home to his wife"

Cromwell and Boleyn both bowed meekly.

* * *

"I'm starting to believe that you like surprises my Lord" Mary rose from the seat set up in the overshadowed spot at the sight of her husband which just got off the horse "Once again you neglected to warn us about your impending return" it would have sounded like a reprimand, were it not for the fact that Mary's face glowed with a smile. William, who was in her vicinity provided her with his arm to lean on as she went to greet Charles

"Forgive me Mary, I was in too much of a hurry to bother with messengers, anyway, I would overtake every courier on this stallion."

He handed the animal over to the stableman and took a proper look at his wife He froze and looked one more time. She looked totally different from the women he had left behind, her belly had grown considerably, and her face had filled out. Even her dress didn't resemble the ones which she was in the habit of wearing. It was unusually simple in style. Presumably it was supposed to make it easier for Mary to move. Mary flushed under his gaze, aware of the changes which had occurred in her. In spite of her joy about the expected child she was aware that she didn't look particularly good with the additional weight.

"I am sorry, My Lord, to disappoint you. I know that my appearance isn't what it used to be." He was still looking at her in silence and Mary felt self-conscious. William standing on the sidelines discreetly rolled his eyes and hissed at Charles disapprovingly. Charles shook off his initial shock and immediately smiled widely.

"Mary, I didn't expect that while carrying my child , you would still look like the girl you are," he reached for her hand and kissed it "although I must say, pregnancy suits you. You look very beautiful, alma mía"

William smiled with contentment listening to the smooth words of his friend and pretended that he didn't notice the threatening glare Charles tossed at him.

"Come wife, let's get home"


	17. 17

"Charles you can't conceal anything, I know all about what happened in London" Mary announced, when once again he tried to avoid answering her questions. Mary hadn't wanted to be unduly discerning during supper, not in the presence of guests. But now being one-on-one in their chamber she could not allow him to hide things from her anymore. Honesty was a virtue she valued highly.

Hearing those words Charles almost collapsed. How had it happened?! After all in the last letter, mindful of the medics reprimands that Mary wasn't allowed to be disturbed, he had strictly forbidden Anthony to tell her anything, not wanting to cause his wife unnecessary grief.

"Who told you?" he finally stammered out, promising in his heart of hearts a very unpleasant death to the one who had disobeyed his orders.

"Ambassador Chapuys wrote to me," Mary reached for the repeatedly read letter which she kept by her bed "I know that you and Anthony meant well, but I don't like to be kept in the dark."

Charles cursed the ambassador for not warning him beforehand. How could he guess which part of the recent events the ambassador had told her about and what he had withheld?! His fingers itched to get hold of the yellowed paper and read it for himself, but he forced himself to stay calm. She was too placid for her to have heard it all.

"So you know, do you?" Charles began, hoping to test just what she really knew, before being forced to reveal all. He had used these tactics countless times before - to learn to what extent his strict father and tutors had known about pranks he had played, and later, in adult life, to find out what husbands and fathers had known about the fact that he had visited the chamber of their wife or daughters.

"I know that you took an oath. I guessed that; otherwise you would have come back earlier - chased out alongside the others who had refused."

Charles breathed with relief. She didn't know about the death of Bishop Fisher and Thomas More. He had to give to the Ambassador - the word 'exile' sounded much better than beheading.

"And you don't hate me for it?"

"How could I?" Mary gave him a watery smile, stretching out her hand and pulling him down to sit by her side, "Everything you did, you did to protect us." She placed her head on his shoulder and Charles leaned down to kiss it. He didn't dare to imagine what her reaction would have been if she had known what had happened to her mother's supporters. He flinched at the memory of the tearful More family saying their goodbyes in front of the scaffold. Unwittingly he tightened his hold around Mary and their child. He swore, that day in the courtyard, looking at the despair of More's wife and children that he would rather make a pact with the devil himself than allow such a fate to befall his family.

"Come wife, it's bedtime, we don't want our child to be born sleepy," He got up and stretched his hand out to her to help her up. Ever since that very first night when she had come to him Charles had banished her serving girl from their chamber and had willingly adopted her duties, helping Mary to release herself from her dress and corsets.

Mary hesitated, biting her lip. Always unsure about her looks, she didn't want Charles to be disgusted by her changed body. Being away from Court she didn't know what had happened whenever her father visited her mother's chamber when she had been expecting. Mary regretted not asking Mrs Nurrows or a physician for some guidance. But Charles hadn't accepted her proposal to sleep in separate chambers and had also promptly laughed off her suggestion of separate beds.

"Mary, _alma mía_?" he prompted seeing her embarrassment

"Maybe Molly should help me from now on," Mary suggested shyly, sliding her hand into his extended one and accepting the proffered help with getting up. Charles only shook his head and put his hands on her arms, turning her around in order to reach the ribbons at the back of her dress.

"No, definitely not" he smiled moving her hair out of his way while his nimble fingers skilfully unlaced her bodice and corset "I missed this far too much. I missed you _alma mía,_ " he whispered gently, kissing her exposed shoulder. Feeling his stubble gently scraping her skin made Mary melt into him with a relieved sigh.

* * *

York buzzed with rumors, whispered stories, and uncertainty. Disgruntled people more and more frequently began saying the one word Robert feared most:

**War!**

The talks with the King's envoys did little or nothing. Cromwell's man had only reminded them what punishments awaited those who disrespected the King. It hadn't been what the people of York had expected to hear. Robert Aske could only watch helplessly as more and more men gathered around him, looking to him for guidance and forcing him to become their leader. He knew that it would take a miracle to stop this war, so he prayed for one with all his might.

* * *

"You should stop, My Lord, soon I won't be able to move," Mary giggled seeing Charles putting another portion of meat on her plate and adding a baked apple to the pile as well.

"My Lady, that's why you have a husband, so that whenever you need it, he can offer you an accommodating arm," Charles laughed, stretching out his long body on the blanket. The picnic was Mrs Nurrows idea. She'd insisted that fresh air served a future mother well and Charles could not disagree with that. Mary's face glowed with health and she laughed at the sight of her husband's friends' silly games. In spite of Charles return, both William and Anthony had decided to extend their stay in Bradgate. As they gallantly explained, they couldn't imagine a more heavenly spot for spending the summer. Mary, fresh from a princely childhood where relationships were stiff with jealousy, observed the closeness they shared with some surprise. Despite not having any blood relation, they cared for one another like brothers. As if they had decided to create their own circle, their own family. Mary liked to believe that she, too, belonged to this company. In the very beginning, both William and Anthony had only treated her with the respect appropriate to the position which she held, but after days spent together she noticed that apart from that, other feelings, ones close to sympathy appeared in their relationship. It was obvious in the way they turned to her, in the smiles they directed at her. They weren't that formal anymore and Mary surprisingly rejoiced in that. She had friends now, not just companions.

It was different with Charles, her husband. Almost from the beginning she had treated him as friend, but with time that affection also began changing. He was still her friend, a person she trusted, but between laughing and talking and kissing, between exchanging smiles and little touches, something had shifted in their relation. She just couldn't name it yet. Charles feelings for her left her puzzled. He liked her, she pleased him; he fulfilled her whims as any good friend would, but sometimes, just sometimes, he looked at her differently. There was something in his eyes, a fire which fascinated her. She had seen it in his eyes just a few nights ago when she had put his hand on her belly so that he could feel the movements of their child. His eyes had darkened and he had kissed her like never before, deeply but and at the same time with the most appalling gentleness. She had liked that kiss; had liked it better than any of the others they'd shared. Caught in her musings, Mary leaned against Charles and closed her eyes, feeling rays of sunshine breaking through the crown of the tree under which they rested and caressing her face. She felt kicking and smiled, massaging her protruding belly. Charles's hand covered her own and their fingers locked.

'What are you thinking about? " He asked her quietly, glancing at her head where it rested against his chest. Her eyes rose and she smiled. His fingers tightened around hers, his shoulder offered her safety and support, under their hands she could feel the movements of their child and in the distance Mary could hear the sounds of their friends laughter.

"That I would like to stop time. To stay here, in this moment, forever. "

"So you are truly happy here with me?" Charles dared to ask the question which occasionally still tormented him. In the end, whichever way you put it, he was a husband imposed upon her; a man who would never be her equal either in birth or character. She was a princess born and bred and he was nothing but an old reformed lecher. But Mary's words sounded confident enough when she answered him

"I am Charles. I am happy."

* * *

Queen Catherine squinted, once again mending already perfect stitching on a set of small robes. All had to be perfect for that blessed child. Catherine smiled happily, glancing at Lady Elizabeth, who was sitting by her side, trimming tiny shirts with lace. Mary was with child! The message smuggled to her by Chapuys had accomplished more to revive her than any of the mixtures prescribed by the physicians. She was finally able to see a glimmer of hope. Catherine chastised herself for ever doubting God's plan. All the suffering she endured; the suffering and the death of the faithful and devoted friends, it was not for nothing. She would accept her fate meekly in exchange for Mary's - and her child's - happiness and health.

* * *

Henry furiously threw the goblet against the wall. Anne flinched at the sight of the red wine splashed on the walls, which slowly spread across the floor, forming purple puddles. The sight reminded her of blood. Ever since Thomas More's death, Henry had been restless, as if something was tormenting him. Anne summoned a smile and tenderly stroked his face, hoping to calm him down.

"My love, please, don't. You're scaring me," she whispered, kissing his neck. Her tactic seemed to cause the intended effect when Henry caught her hand and kissed it.

"Forgive me," he breathed, "I didn't mean to frighten you."

She smiled but froze when he move away from her, "I simply have a lot on my mind right now."

"Is it about York?" Anne asked her temper flaring, "All of this because of a group of peasants?"

"Those peasants oppose my laws!"

"Then they are traitors and should be treated as such!" Anne called with passion, "My love, anyone who opposes your will, opposes the will of the God! You're King by His will! Your word is law!"

Henry came up to the table and looked at More's cross lying on it. The executioner had given it to him after Thomas's death. If More had been here he would have asked to give them chances; chance after chance; he would have opposed the war as long as he lived. But Thomas wasn't here anymore.

"I will send Charles to them with a warning, and if they don't listen, I will raze York to the ground!"


	18. 18

Charles reread the words angrily. They might have been signed in the King's hand, but they were clearly written by Cromwell He had been ordered to travel to York in order to disarm the rebellion! Using whatever means he deemed necessary. He hid his face in his hands and sank into a chair. Charles knew only too well what demands hid behind the agile wording of the King's order: force them to submit or kill them all, irrespective of age, sex or status. All those of noble birth as well as peasants, priests, knights… even women and children! If he tried to refuse, well, the consequences weren't listed but lately nobody had had the courage to deny the King. The memory of More and Bishop Fisher's demise was too fresh in people's minds. The refusal to carry out an order would be seen as a betrayal.

Mary stood in front of the closed door, not certain what she should do. She lacked the courage to press the doorknob and enter her husbands' study. Cromwell's letter, which had arrived yesterday, had brought dark clouds over Bradgate. Her husband hadn't left his study for hours and both Anthony and William walked around with beetle-browed looks. She heard the long-drawn-out groan and flinched with fear. Charles wouldn't like her to see him like this, and even if she could muster the courage and confront him what could she do? What could she say? What comfort could she possibly offer?

Mary sighed. Not knowing what to do she retrieved Chapuys's letter from her pocket and her eyes glided towards the final lines; the ones she knew by heart. _"As your friend, My Lady, I must write honestly and offer you some advice: you should always remember whose daughter you are, but don't allow either your Father's - or even your sainted Mother's - choices to determine yours. The wise sovereign, must act according to his own judgments, even when they go against the wishes of those closest to him. It is both a privilege and a curse of the great. I'm one of those whose obligation is to follow. Fate, however, made you, My Lady, one of those who guides. I trust You will always choose what you believe is for the best."_

Mary sat down frowning, her eyes travelling between the letter and the closed door of her husband's study. What was for the best?

"Am I interrupting?" Anthony, as ever, was in the vicinity.

She gave him a small smile and indicated the chair opposite her. "Please do sit down. I don't feel like being alone."

"You look troubled " Anthony noted

" I must confess that recent events have filled me with sorrow and anxiety" Mary admitted, eager to share her turmoil with a friend.

" The York revolts." Anthony didn't have to guess what troubled her. It was the topic on everyone's minds and lips.

"Yes. Tell me Anthony, but please be honest, do you think they stand a chance against the King? Can their actions influence him enough to change his mind? To revoke what he has done?"

"My Lady, you request my frankness, so I will answer you truthfully no matter what I think about their case, or whether I agree with them. The fact remains that they act against their sovereign, and because of that simple fact they must lose, because they act against the whole of England."

"So they're doomed, it will be all for nothing."

"Unfortunately yes. It is a real misfortune that kings, involved in great political games so often forget that behind their every decision, every signature lies the life and death of thousands of people. Just for once I'd like to see a sovereign - any sovereign - put his people before himself. Particularly your father."

"You think he should try to be the people's King? Rather than rule the nobles, the way he always has? "

"You may think it's silly, My Lady, but I've always believed that a King should think of his people first and of himself last."

"Think of the people above all else? Even before their faith or their conscience? Even if it could mean them damning their own soul? "Mary questioned, clearly fascinated with the idea.

"Condemning one royal soul in order to save the life of hundreds. " Anthony rubbed his chin. "I don't know. But what I do know is that I am neither God nor a King but if I could stop the death of scores of innocents I would do it, no matter what the price. What's more, I think God would forgive me. I've seen war, I've witnessed what it brings, and I can tell you right now, there is nothing worse."

Mary nodded considering his words, her hand on her belly, "I thank you for your honesty, my friend," She squeezed his hand and rose with an effort, "Please forgive me, but I must take care of something."

She had a few hours before Charles's planned departure. Hopefully it would be enough time to find the appropriate words.

Charles had just arranged the last item in his saddlebags when his wife shyly approached him. Thinking that she came to say goodbye, he was momentarily astounded when she handed him an unsealed letter.

"Mary? What is it?" he asked, taking the letter.

"I, well, I wanted to help you, so I wrote a few words to the people of York," Mary bit her lip, "I don't know if it's right, but maybe, you could read it to them, maybe it could make a difference."

Charles's eyes flashed when he read the contents of the letter. "My dear, this will please the King. He'll be delighted to see his daughter reminding them of their duties to him as their sovereign and to keep the peace of the country the way God would want them to."

Now it was Mary's turn for her eyes to flash, "I didn't do it for the King, but for those people and for you. I don't want you have to fight. I need you here… with me… and our child." She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, "Please do all you can in order to prevent the worst and hurry home".

* * *

Anne smiled, observing the relaxed king. She had to ensure Henry was in a good mood in order to introduce him to the idea her father suggested.

"Husband," she sat down next to him and signed to the servants to pour the King more wine.

Henry was blissfully happy. He couldn't remember when he'd last had such a relaxing evening. No politics, no problems, only fun, wine and dance.

"Anne, darling." he accepted the goblet from her hands and leaned over to kiss her.

" I know how much you've worried about York these few last weeks."

Henry didn't deny her statement. In fact he was worried. The rebellion in York could easily turn into civil war. The last one placed his father on the throne, he didn't want another to dethrone him.

"I also thought about it, searching for a way to ease your worries and I've had an idea."

"You shouldn't meddle with things that don't concern you, sweetheart," Henry chided lightly. Despite his words, however, Henry watched his wife avidly. There was no doubt in his mind that she'd been consulting with her father and her uncle, and both were famous for their slyness and quick mind. It couldn't hurt to hear their idea, whatever it was.

"Those rebels in York speak against your acts and demand Mary's restoration at the expense of our daughter." Anne tilted her head coquettishly and placed her hand on top of his, "Wouldn't Mary swearing her obedience to Elizabeth stop them? If she bent the knee to Elizabeth, wouldn't they too, have to acknowledge Elizabeth's right to the throne, as Your Majesty's only legitimate heir?"

Henry knitted his brows, not sure he liked the idea of humiliating his pearl like that. Not when she was married to Charles and Charles could control her for him. "Charles took an oath, and he's Mary's husband."

"Indeed duke did, but not his wife. And he hasn't the right to the throne at all. It's her rights the rebels are championing, not his. I know it's unusual for a woman to swear an oath separately from her husband, but these are exceptional circumstances. Think about it. It would leave no doubts who is the legitimate heir to the crown" Anne stated. It was essential to make Henry see it as idea worth of pursuing.

"But Charles is not here to make her do it, and in her condition…" Henry hesitated

"My Lord, I understand your concern, but we cannot wait for the Duke's return, it could be too late! Send somebody trusted to her, somebody who will be sure to present your word in the right manner," Anne smiled, sure of her success "In two weeks' time we will stop only a day ride from Bradgate, and my father could easily fulfil any mission you asked of him, Sire."

Henry pondered. If Charles failed in suppressing the rebellion, it might be just as well to have all possible options open to him.

"I'll think about it, sweetheart." Thus placating his wife, The King consumed the contents of the goblet in one move.


	19. 19

"We'll march on London! Take His Majesty ransom until he agrees to our demands!"

"We'll have our high days and holidays back! No Protestantism for us!"

"We'll have Cromwell's head! And Nan Bullen's too!"

"We'll put the Princess Mary back where she belongs!"

The men gathered in the great chamber shouted raucously, heedless that their words were treason or of who was listening. Robert Aske glanced apologetically at the Duke of Suffolk who was listening with increasing impatience to the assembled company, who were doing their best to outshout one another. He had spent the better part of a day attempting to understand and mitigate their demands. He had already visualised possible outcomes for them, presented the King's opinion to them, and they still weren't going to abandon their frantic intentions. He was suffering an increasing headache and his fury was rising. How could they not understand that what they planned to do was sheer madness! Worse, it was treason! He was at the end of his tether. In the end, he banged the table with his fist. Terror-stricken, the multitude fell silent.

"That's enough! You will stop it right now! If you march on London, you march without the Duchess of Suffolk's support," he snapped, emphasising Mary's new title as he knew Henry would want him to.

"Nonsense! We're fighting for her rights. Of course the Princess will support us!" a brazen voice called out, to a chorus of muttered agreement. Charles snarled lowly. It was time to end this once and for all. His hand went to his belt and extracted the last of the letters he brought.

"You think so, do you? Here, read it. If neither my words nor the duty of obedience you owe your sovereign can avert you from this course, then maybe her words will!"

Aske, who was sitting closest to the Duke, reached for the letter and, having spread it out, leaned forward, reading the smooth writing. When his eyes fell upon the signature, they went wide and he he glanced, at Charles amazed. Duke affirmatively nodded his head answering the unspoken question, "She wrote it herself, and no, not under duress. I knew nothing of it until she presented me with it. You have my word."

Satisfied, Aske read the letter aloud for all to hear.

_"Good people of York, I write to you not as the King's daughter, but as an honest citizen of England, a mother-to-be expecting an innocent child and a soldier's wife who fears for her husband's safety. I understand your grievances and I deeply appreciate your loyalty – to your faith, your King and each other. I join you in your prayers for peace and prosperity for our King and our country. Yet, at the same time I implore you to abandon your rebellious intentions. An uprising such as the one you plan will bring nothing more than death and destruction to you and to our beloved England. I implore you all to go home to your families. Look after your children, cultivate your land and believe in the faithfulness and wisdom of God Almighty. Our King wields a crown given by God, to serve him is to serve God Himself. Who are we to doubt God's wisdom and purpose? God Willing, we will all meet at the joyful feast in Heaven. I pray for you and I commend you all to His divine care. Remember that all shall be well. Mary Brandon Duchess of Suffolk"_

Robert finished. Everyone sat completely silent. Charles raked his eyes over them, glancing from one to another. In the end one of the men stood up and called out

"God bless the Duchess!"

A choir of voices echoed his words and Charles breathed out in undisguised relief. It was a month until Mary was due to give birth. He would make it home after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Anthony and William stood by the door of the chamber in which Mary had received Lord Wiltshire without embarrassment. When the Earl of Wiltshire had appeared at Bradgate, none had wished to leave Mary alone with the snake, but the old schemer had outsmarted them. He'd brought a letter from the King which guaranteed him a personal talk with the Duchess and Mary, not wanting to create an unnecessary brawl, had sent them away assuring them that she would summon them if necessary.

Both knights with an effort refrained themselves from barging into the chamber. The King's demands, presented by Boleyn, were revolting in themselves, but Boleyn's behaviour and the manner in which he dared to speak to the Duchess caused blind fury to course through their veins!

"Further refusals to sign the oath can only end poorly for you, My Lady," Boleyn threatened, irritated by her obstinacy. How could the bastard dare to ignore him?! Him, the father of the Queen of England!

Mary's brows rose. How dare he threaten her in her own home?!

"They wouldn't just go poorly for you. Your husband would suffer too. And your brat of a child," Thomas hissed, glaring at her rounded belly. Instinctively, Mary laid a protective hand on her unborn child. She wasn't so worried about Charles, he had a sizeable amount of influence with her father anyway, but her child was a different matter. And Thomas Boleyn was capable of anything. Her eyes flew to the door, wondering how far away William and Anthony could be.

"Do you think your precious Brandon could protect you from being clapped in the Tower?" Boleyn continued his attack "Do you? Hmm? Because that's the penalty that awaits those who refuse to submit to the King's will!"

He tossed a quill in her direction, "Sign!" he demanded.

"Never!" Mary proudly lifted her head in spite of her fear, "Never!"

Boleyn pounded the table with his fist, sending goblets clattering to the ground.

"Yes you will! You will sign it or I'll take you to the Tower today, as God is my witness! First you and your traitorous husband and then your accursed mother," Boleyn glared contemptuously, sneering at the young woman in front of him "You will follow More and Fisher and you will end the same way they did. On the block!"

Mary moaned, hearing the terrible news. Thomas More and Bishop Fisher were dead. When? How? Why? Why hadn't she been told?

Seeing her momentary weakness, Boleyn drove his point home "Yes, My Lady. They're dead. Their heads now rot above the city gates and their blood is on your hands, for they fought for your rights. You say you don't want war. Prove it. Sign the Oath. Sign it or your head will follow! "

Boleyn's words were like a physical blow. Mary's vision began to swim with the shock. Her child, as though it could sense it's mother's internal torment, began kicking anxiously. Each kick intensified the pain that was tearing her intestines apart.

Boleyn was getting even more furious with her. Everything about her angered him; her person, her attitude, her belly! She had been declared a bastard, married to an English nobleman rather than the foreign Prince she and her mother felt she deserved, trapped in this hellhole they called Bradgate and yet she still had her damned Spanish pride! Oh, how he wished he could gut her with the sword he wore on his hip, to destroy once and for all the last threat to his greatest triumph: his grandson sitting on the throne of England!

Mobilizing all her willpower, Mary rose, determined not to show she was shaking, "I believe you have said enough, My Lord! Now hear me speak. I will sign this document only if both the King and my husband command me to do so. They are the only men on earth who can command me! And now, forgive me, but I have things to see to."

She moved towards the door, but never reached it. Boleyn, unable to rein in his fury, threw the table aside and lunged at her. She flinched from him, horrified by the hatred she saw in his face. At the sound of the wood crashing to the flagstoned floor, William and Anthony immediately entered and stood by her side, their hands on their swords, ready to leap to her defence.

"You will leave Bradgate this instant, Sir!"

William supported the staggering Mary while Anthony approached Boleyn threateningly.

"Get out of here!"

"You'll regret this!" the Earl hissed, but at the sight of the knights' glare, retreated. Sir Anthony was a seasoned warrior and he was just a diplomat. He didn't stand a chance in an open fight against him and he knew it.

"It's not over!" he warned, as he left.

Mary fell to the floor, suddenly in excruciating pain. Anthony and William watched in terror as a scarlet stain blossomed on her dress.

"My child, save my child!"

"Mrs Nurrows!" The scream reverberated around Bradgate's corridors, chilling all who heard it, "Fetch a midwife! Now!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I knew you could do it Charles, I had the greatest faith in you! You've never failed me my friend! You are so much better than all the rest of these squirming nobles! The only one I can always count on! " Henry hugged his friend as Charles finished explaining his achievements at York.

They were alone, in one of the smaller castle chambers, "I thank you, Your Majesty, but I must confess that the merit is not mine alone," Charles smirked, took Mary's letter from his pocket and handed it to the King "In truth it was my wife's words that exerted the greatest influence on the rebels."

Henry knitted his brows at the very mention of Mary. Two days ago, according to Anne's wishes, he had sent Lord Wiltshire to Bradgate. Now that seemed completely unnecessary. He'd have to recall him quickly, before there was any unnecessary unpleasantness. He skimmed through the letter and smiled proudly. The Duchess of Suffolk had proved to be a skilful diplomat!

"I am pleased Charles, very pleased!" The King assured him, returning the letter "Come on, we will share this news with the rest of the Court! It demands a feast in your honour! We will empty the wine cellar tonight like we used to in the old days" Henry led Charles to the door.

"Your Majesty, with your permission, I would like to go home" Charles protested " I was away for a few weeks and Mary is soon to deliver our child."

Henry was yet to answer, when from behind the closed door an unusual noise reached them. Curious, the King signed for the servants to open the door. An unusual scene met their eyes. King's Lord Wiltshire lay spread-eagled on the floor and, nearby, Sir Anthony Knivert struggled in a burly guard's hold. The gathered nobles outshouted one another in their surprise and numerous ladies-in-waiting giggled and goggled at the spectacle. A fight amongst courtiers, in the King's rooms themselves? One of the participants being Lord Wiltshire, the Queen's father? That was a scandal promising enough grist for the rumour mill for weeks!

"What are you doing?!" Henry's voice rose above the tumult.

"Your Highness! I was attacked," The Earl slowly rose from the floor, wiping away the blood leaking from his broken lip, but froze at the sight of Charles standing at the King's side. He hadn't expected to see the Duke of Suffolk home from the North so soon. He hesitated for a moment, uncertain how to handle this. Lord Suffolk was not known for his restrained temperament.

"Your Majesty, I have an urgent message for the Duke of Suffolk " Knivert seized his chance and broke in, continuing his struggle.

Henry ordered the guard to release him and turned to his old comrade in arms.

"Speak, Anthony."

"Your Majesty, the Duke needs to return to Bradgate at once. His wife and child are in danger. The Duchess has gone into labour!"

Charles, forgetting etiquette in his anxiety, shoved past Henry and hurried to Anthony's side.

"She is giving birth?! But it's too early! "

"The Duchess was placed under great stress, and it brought on her labour."

The eyes of three men glided towards the Earl of Wiltshire. There was no doubt in their minds who was guilty of causing Mary's condition Charles clamped his teeth in helpless fury.

"Go, Charles" Henry ordered instantly, before anyone else could say anything, "Anthony, ride with him. Take the fastest horses in the stables."

"But, My King, I was attacked!" Boleyn protested.

Henry cut him off with a wave of his hand, "It was a simple misunderstanding, was it not? We can settle it later. The Duchess's health is more important. Charles, Anthony, go. My prayers ride with you."

* * *


	20. 20

An angry Queen Anne waited in vain for her her husband at the richly set table, facing questioning glances from the nobles and whispered gossip about her father's spat with Knivert. The news passed on by her father didn't please her. In fact, it worried her. The King had ignored the attack on him for Mary's sake! It was inexcusable.

Suddenly, she decided she'd had enough of waiting. Gesturing abruptly to the nearest servant, she sent him to find the King. The boy returned minutes later, explaining that the King had been seen heading for stables.

Furious, Anne hurried after him, ignoring her father's warning glare.

She met him outside just as he was about to ride off.

"Where are you going?" she demanded, seeing him mounting up and raising a hand to his escort, "We were supposed to have dinner together! In public, might I remind you? The whole court is waiting for you!"

"I'm going for a ride."

"Now? Without even bothering to send me a message?"

Henry didn't answer, as he focused on leaning down from the saddle and adjusting his stirrups. All of a sudden, it crashed over Anne in a wave of clarity.

"You're going to Bradgate! You're going to her!" Anne accused sharply.

Henry, angered with her questioning, leaned down from the saddle and caught her arm in a crushing grip.

"I don't always have to account for my actions to you, Madam. Go back inside." So saying, he pushed her away. Seeing that she wanted to protest, he growled "Right now!"

Anne curtsied mockingly, faking total obedience, "As you wish, My Lord."

She began to go back to the castle but turned after a few paces to watch the company ride away. Once she was sure Henry would no longer hear her, she hissed vengefully. "I hope your pearl dies along with her bastard, Sire."

* * *

"Alma mía" Mary heard Charles's familiar voice through a fog of pain. What was he doing here? This was her lying-in chamber; a woman's chamber.

Only then did she truly realise what she was hearing. Charles! Charles was home! Charles was sitting beside her stroking her tangled hair. She wanted to tell him how happy she was that he was back safe and sound, how much she had longed for him while he'd been away, but, just then, a searing contraction racked her body.

"Mary!" Charles shouted, panicking as his wife convulsed with pain.

"You shouldn't here be Your Grace!" Mrs Nurrows admonished brusquely pushing him aside in order to put a cool compress on Mary's burning forehead. "The birthing chamber is no place for a man!"

Mary could only watch helplessly as the midwives pushed Charles outside. She was so afraid.

"I can't do it" she whispered, ashamed, "I don't have enough strength."

"Yes you do, my dear child," Mrs Nurrows said bracingly. "Women have been bearing children for centuries! You are young and strong, there's nothing to worry about. You'll be fine." Mrs Nurrows squeezed the Duchess's hand, trying desperately to hide her own fear for the young woman's life, "Courage, my lady. We'll have an heir for Suffolk soon enough!"

Henry didn't even try to hide his destination. He urged his horse towards Bradgate at a gallop, wishing he could make the miles go by faster.

Mary was giving birth to a child, his grandson or granddaughter! How could anyone blame him for wanting to be there? Mary might be illegitimate, but she was still his daughter. And he still loved her; the same way he'd loved every child he'd ever fathered. He might pretend he didn't so as not to distress Anne too much when she was pregnant and he might be furious with her for refusing to accept that his marriage to her mother ought never to have existed, but that didn't stop him from loving her.

"Your Majesty!" Molly curtsied deeply at the sight of the King entering, almost dropping the fresh sheets she was carrying in her haste and shock.

Henry had just turned in her direction in order to ask questions when they heard an ear-splitting scream.

Forgetting about the girl, Henry sprinted towards the chamber the scream had originated from. Molly was running right behind him, worried about her Mistress.

"Your Highness!" Charles quickly moved away from the wall at the sight of the King as the latter burst into the room, "What a surprise! We didn't think to see Your Majesty here today."

"Charles" the King hugged his friend and nodded his head in greeting to Anthony and William who rose from their seats "I was riding in the vicinity and night caught up with me so I decided to stop here." The King lied with ease.

"Of course, Your Highness" Charles said smoothly, hiding a smile at the obvious lie "Although I'm afraid Your Majesty won't find any peace and quiet in Bradgate tonight."

"I will be fine. And how is it going?" Henry asked with faked nonchalance, pointing to the closed door.

"It has been hours" Charles admitted fearfully.

Henry understood his feelings only too well. He had lived through similar agony awaiting his desired heir. All to no avail. The strong son he'd dreamed of fathering since he was a boy himself had yet to be born.

"You can't do anything other than wait" he said soothingly and reached for the carafe filled with wine, "Sit down," he instructed, handing Charles a goblet, "Let's drink as in the times of our youth!"

* * *

The hours went by and they talked of anything and everything – but mostly about the approaching tournament - ate and drank, seemingly without a care in the world. All the while, however, all four of them kept glancing, furtively and uneasily, at the door. It was so silent behind them. None of the men dared reveal his anxieties aloud. Silence wasn't a good sign. They all knew that much.

Suddenly, however a loud squeal rent the air. A baby's wail. Charles shot to his feet. A baby's wail. His baby's wail! He could hear the crying of his child! Their child!

A broad smile brightened his grim face.

"Congratulations my friend!" Anthony patted his back and William contributed a shout of joy to the proceedings

Standing arm in arm, they watched as the door opened and Mrs Nurrows appeared holding a small bundle in her arms.

"The Duchess gave birth to a son!" she announced joyfully, presenting the babe to his proud father, not even noticing the King.

Henry stood astounded by the news. A son! Charles's first-born was a son. Why was God so unfair?! Why did he gave sons to people who didn't actually need them, and not to those who, like him, desperately craved them?!

Charles, unaware of the King's dilemma, gazed rapturously at the wrinkled face of his child. He had two hands and ten fingers, a very little nose and traces of what looked to be curls on his head. He was beautiful.

Anthony and William crowded around, attempting to peek at the tiny face.

"Good job Charles! That's a strong boy you've got there."

"William. His name is William after my father," Charles declared. Mary had chosen the name many weeks ago…at the same time that she had insisted that their first daughter be Katherine after her mother.

"Is he healthy?" Henry asked the midwife who appeared in the doorway, wiping the blood from her hands.

"Yes, Your Majesty. The boy is strong and healthy," The woman guaranteed with a solemn curtsy.

Something in her voice caught Charles' attention.

"And my wife? What about the Duchess?" he asked, through a lump in his throat.

Henry twitched involuntarily. Had something happened to Mary? His Mary?

The midwife looked grave as she shook her head slightly.

"The Duchess has lost a lot of blood and strength. the delivery was premature, almost dangerously so. Her life is still in the hands of God. We'll have to wait and see."

Knivert ground his teeth. He regretted that he had not killed Boleyn.

"But she will survive, won't she?" Charles pressed.

Seeing the young father's genuine fear, the midwife answered gently, "The Duchess has youth on her side, but no one can work miracles other than God. Her Grace may well live; there may even be no permanent damage, but if that is to be the case, then Her Grace will need much rest in order to recover, and the process may well take months. I trust Your Grace has engaged a wet nurse?"

Charles nodded his head in understanding, "I wish to see her" he announced and the physician stepped aside, "As Your Grace requests."

"Wait. Give me the baby," Henry, who until now, had been standing in silence, reached confidently for the baby. "You don't want to be distracted whilst you're in there. Go to Mary. She needs you more. But don't tell her I'm here. I fear it would upset her and we don't need that."

Charles reluctantly released his little boy into his grandfather's arms and entered the chamber.

For his part, Henry, unable to keep away from his daughter entirely, leaned against the door with the child in his arms, careful to stay hidden in the shadows.

His daughter looked horribly pale and fragile lying in the vast bed. In all honesty, she looked almost dead.

Shaking his head to clear it of such horrible thoughts, he turned his eyes onto the boy in his arms.

The boy had Catherine's eyes; the same steely colour, the same stubborn gaze. The child didn't cry, but obstinately fixed his eyes on the man holding him, as if accusing him of causing the condition his mother was in. Henry tightened his lips, regretting that he had attempted to force Mary to sign the oath; regretting that he had sent Boleyn to her. What was he thinking? Why did he do it? It was another wrong decision he was lead to make by the stupidity of his advisors. Just like when they pushed him to have More executed. He shouldn't have listened to them then, either. But at least More hadn't been his daughter. Mary was and maybe if they hadn't pushed him so hard; if he hadn't felt he had no choice but to yield to that temptress's pleas, for the sake of peace in their household, Mary wouldn't be in such a serious condition.

He looked at the boy in his arms. It was a son! Mary had given birth to a son! She had fulfilled her duty as a wife! She'd succeeded where his own wife had failed! Could God be that cruel? Did He intend to give him grandsons, rather than sons?

"He is beautiful, Your Highness" Anthony stated

"Yes he is," Henry, suddenly overwhelmed with love for the boy he was holding, kissed the child's forehead.

* * *


	21. 21

"Have you seen him? Have you seen William? Is he all right?" Mary asked her husband anxiously, as he seated himself carefully at her side. She was worn out, so tremendously tired, but at the same time so happy. She had done it! She'd given birth to a son!

"He's perfectly fine, strong and healthy" Charles assured her, kissing her sweaty forehead "Thank you for our son, alma mia"

Mary gave him a tired smile. The euphoria of the successful delivery had begun to leave her. Every gesture, even the smallest one, required all of her strength. She was so sleepy and cold. In spite of being surrounded with warmed bricks, she couldn't stop shivering.

"That's good" She attempted to move on the bed, but the intense pain which pierced her body stopped her.

"Careful! You should rest!" Charles quickly bent, slid his arms under her body and gently moved her into a more comfortable position.

Mary blinked, trying to focus. She knew that something had gone wrong during the delivery. Her body was so sore, and there was so much blood. Could she die? Would she become another victim of childbed fever? And if so, who would take care of her child? Who would help Charles?

"Charles? Can you do something for me?" she asked

"Anything," Charles promised bending his head and kissing her hand.

Mary could only smile upon hearing it. It was a lie, a sweet lie.

"Could you ask the King to permit my mother to see William? Just once? " she swallowed, running her hand through his curls "And I would like you to promise me that, if something happens to me, you will raise William to be a good person, like you are."

"Mary, stop saying such things! You will recover!" Charles assured her, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart.

Him, a good person? Him? The biggest reveller, womaniser and opportunist in the whole of England?

"I know I will, I know," Mary lied, trying to make her tone convincing for her love's sake, "But… please. Promise me. "

" I promise you, my dear, that I will raise William to be a son worthy of such a mother as you" Charles altered the words of the promise, but either Mary was too tired to notice or his words satisfied her anyway, as she closed her eyes, promptly falling into a well-deserved and healing sleep.

Charles spent close to an hour watching her sleep, counting every breath and praying it wouldn't be her last. Only Molly's arrival broke him from it. Ordering the serving girl to alert him if anything changed, he left the room, wanting to see his son. He couldn't hear the boy crying, so guessed that someone reliable had taken care of the young Lord. Anthony and William sat snoring on chairs, obviously overcome by the hours of waiting and the wine. Most astonishing, however, was the King's presence. His Majesty was standing next to the sleeping infant's cradle, watching over him.

Hearing footsteps, Henry turned his back on the cradle and wiped his eyes hurriedly.

"If you can manage to revive Anthony enough to get him on a horse, Catherine could be here within the week" Henry stated, silently yet openly admitting that he had eavesdropped on the conversation between his daughter and her husband.

Charles froze. He didn't expect that.

"Your Highness wants me to bring the Dowager Princess here?" Charles asked, wanting to be sure that he had understood the King's intentions.

"That should please Mary. Her mother's presence ought to help her regain her strength" Henry glanced back at the sleeping child, "And I'm certain that Catherine will be more than ready to take care of her grandson until Mary recovers."

"And when my wife is well again? What would Your Majesty want me to do with the Dowager Princess then?" Charles hated himself for asking that question, but he had to. He could not risk being forced to separate mother and daughter again, after bringing Catherine to Bradgate, He didn't want to expose either of them to that kind of distress, neither his wife nor the Princess Dowager. He had to gamble now, to force the King's hand one way or the other.

The King looked at his trusted friend. He understood the question. Henry stroked his chin, thinking. Banishing Catherine to the More and marrying Mary off to Brandon had both had one purpose – weakening them and preventing them from banding together to head a rebellion against him. But Catherine's will hadn't weakened, although her health had due to the conditions of her new residence and the attempt to break Mary's had led only to a premature labour and further damage to the already fragile health of his daughter. If either of them truly wished to incite the rebellion they had just had a perfect opportunity in York. But Mary had chosen to be loyal. She had helped appease the rebels and, what's more, she'd delivered a strong boy! She deserved a reward for that.

"Catherine may benefit from your hospitality as long as you are willing to host her here" Henry promised, at last. "You will be responsible for her, mind," he warned.

Charles could not be happier.

* * *

Thomas Boleyn entered the Queen's chambers furiously, dismissing her ladies with a sharp command "Get out!"

Anne, outraged by her father's behaviour rose, wanting to protest, but one glance at his face, which was twisted in cold fury, stopped her. Her father never showed emotion like that. Something really had to have gone wrong for him to be so openly angry.

When the last of her ladies had run out, shutting the door behind her, Anne asked, "What happened? Why did you come in here frightening my ladies like that?"

"Mary gave birth to a living child," Boleyn announced without any preliminaries, "She has a son, a healthy son!" he added accusingly, glancing the cradle in which his unnecessary granddaughter lay. The "And you do not", hung unspoken in the air.

Anne wavered for a moment, surprised by the sudden news but quickly regained her usual self-confidence "So the bastard has a son," she shrugged, "What of it? It doesn't mean anything"

"Are you really so stupid or so blind?!" her father hissed, "Don't you understand? The King was present at the birth! He recognised that brat as his grandson! Do you want Mary's son to be accepted as an heir to the throne?!"

" Elizabeth is heir to the throne " Anne shouted.

" Elizabeth is an ordinary, unnecessary, girl!" Boleyn grasped Anne's shoulders and shook her, "You must give the King a son! "

" I know, Father!" Anne tore herself from his grasp, "God knows you've made that clear enough. You needn't worry. As soon as I've recovered, I will."

"You don't have a lot of time" Boleyn sneered "The King allowed Brandon to invite Catherine to Bradgate to look after her daughter and grandson."

Anne caught her breath at that piece of news. How could he?! He'd promised her that Catherine would remain in the More to the end of her days! He'd promised! How could he break that promise!

"Now you must be doubly cautious not to lose the love of the King," Boleyn stated fiercely, "You must conceive and have a son! Everything depends upon it! We've come too far to fall now!"


	22. 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN. THANK YOU to all who read the last chapter, and even BIGGER ONE to those who left me a comment or a kudos:):):)
> 
> BETAED by the greatest Lady Eleanor Boleyn!

Lady Elizabeth put aside the rope which she had prepared for herself. For many weeks now, she'd been getting ready to take her own life. After all, even if God punished her for it, what did she have to live for? She wasn't married, she didn't have children. She'd given her innocence to Thomas Wyatt, for what? Nothing more than a few moments of companionship. Her family had disowned her when she stayed loyal to the rejected Queen and now her Queen was dying trapped in this gloomy castle. Death seemed to be the only logical solution, but for now it had to wait. First Bess had to make sure that her Queen would safely leave her prison. Only then she would make use of the rope.

Ever since sir Anthony Knivert had brought the news about the birth of Her Majesty's grandson and the King releasing her to tend to her daughter the Princess Mary, a bustle had persisted in the otherwise quiet castle. Queen Catherine seemed to gather new strength upon hearing that she would be allowed to see her daughter and grandson. Packing was commenced instantly, Her Majesty not wanting to lose even a second of her possible time with her daughter – and perhaps fearing that the King would change his mind if she delayed.

Bess prepared a tray of food for the Queen and her guest. Sir Antony had ridden to them non-stop and of course was exhausted after the journey.

"Bess, my dear, I was just talking about you," The Queen stretched her hand out to her as she entered " Sit down for a moment."

Obediently Bess put away the tray and sat down by the Queen's side.

"Sir Anthony, as I was telling you Bess is my companion and the most loyal lady-in-waiting I could ever wish for."

Bess blushed upon hearing the praise.

"My Lady, as I was saying the decision belongs only to you," Anthony assured Bess, who looked at him, confused. What decision?

"What do you say Bess? Will you join me at Bradgate and help me care for Mary and her child? I know that I ask a lot, you are so young," Catherine smiled warmly.

"My Queen" Bess pressed her lips to Catherine's hand "I would be honoured if I could further serve you, but will the Duke of Suffolk allow my presence?" Worried, Bess peeked at Anthony. In response, he eyed her attentively. Nothing escaped his thorough inspection: her slim figure, her fine blonde hair, her ordinary, but sweet face on which hope wrestled with resignation.

"As a close friend of the Duke's, I can assure you, My Lady, that you will be welcome to Bradgate, and your help will be accepted. You are of a similar age to the Duchess. It will be good for Her Grace to have somebody young about her for company, and your service here, if her Majesty is to be believed, has been nothing short of exemplary"

Bess smiled widely, not even noticing how her face, which was now transformed by happiness earned her another curious gaze from the man. For the first time in years, she was happy. It looked like her rope would remain at the More along with all her bad memories.

* * *

When the carriage with Catherine and Bess in it arrived at Bradgate, it was Charles himself who greeted them. Smiling widely, he offered Catherine his hand to aid her in getting out and bowed low.

"Welcome to Bradgate, My Lady"

Catherine kissed him on both cheeks, glowing with happiness, "Charles! How is Mary? And your son? " she asked.

"By God's will the danger passed but Mary must regain her strength. She's still in bed, but she is getting better with each day. I didn't tell her about your arrival not wanting to raise her hopes in case it didn't come off. We both know how fickle His Majesty can be."

Catherine raised an eyebrow at Charles's bold words, but nodded and said nothing. Meanwhile, Anthony had helped the younger woman leave the carriage and led her over to the talking pair. Surprised, Charles glanced at the young woman who seemed to shake with fear and clung to Anthony's arm.

"Charles, this is my faithful companion, Lady Elizabeth. I took the liberty of inviting her to join me " Catherine hesitated slightly, not knowing what else to say.

"But of course! Forgive me, in my haste I forgot about your companion! I'm glad to meet you Lady Elizabeth" Charles smiled warmly, now understanding the young woman's uncertainty "Welcome to Bradgate. My wife will certainly be glad of another female companion."

"Thank You My Lord" Bess curtsied

"Mrs Nurrows has prepared your chambers" Charles summoned the embarrassed women standing on the sidelines with a gesture, "She can take you up there to freshen up if you wish."

"Later Charles! Please. I wish to see my daughter. Take me to Mary!" Catherine couldn't hide her impatience a moment longer.

"I will take care of our baggage, My Lady," Bess murmured and Charles nodded in agreement, clearly understanding Catherine's impatience.

"Of course. William and Anthony will certainly help you, Lady Elizabeth. They'll show you where it all goes." So saying, Charles offered his arm to Catherine, "Now, My Lady, if you please."

* * *

"Mother? Mother! " Mary almost floated from the pillows at the sight of the woman standing in the doorway.

"My child, my precious child!" Catherine, forgetting about appearances, hurried to the bed where her sick daughter lay.

Seeing the women embracing each other tightly, Charles blinked violently, fighting tears. At last. He'd made a success of something. His family was safe, if only for the moment.

* * *

The tiny boy in the cradle by Mary's bed whimpered quietly and his grandmother instantly whirled round and snatched him up, humming an old Castilian melody, wanting to calm him.

"He is exquisite, he's the most beautiful child in the world" she declared some time later, sitting down with the child in her arms.

"Of course he is, My Lady" Bess agreed, busy with mending cushions for the Duchess. She'd fallen in love with the young master on their first day in Bradgate and decided to serve his mother as devotedly as she did her beloved Queen. She didn't even think about finding another rope. She was needed here to care for the still weak Queen, the young Duchess who had indeed longed for the company of somebody her own age and to help in the upbringing of that sweet child who has stolen the hearts of all of Bradgate's inhabitants.

"Mother" Mary addressed her mother, "Do you feel resentment against my actions?"

The uncertainty in Mary's voice squeezed Catherine's heart painfully. Hastily she gave her grandson to Bess and hurried to Mary's side. Even though it had been a week since she'd arrived at Bradgate, so far she'd avoided having this serious conversation with her daughter for fear of damaging Mary's health, but it looked like Mary desired discussing the matters that lay, heavy and silent, between them.

Knowing they would want to be alone for this conversation, Bess hastily slipped from the chamber with the child in her arms.

"Mother," Mary's hand grasped Catherine's when she sat down by the bed "Forgive me if my actions in the York matter offended you, but I thought then - and still believe - that it was the best choice I could make. I had to protect my family and the villagers around Bradgate, as well as our tenants."

Catherine looked at her daughter's determined face It seemed so different from the one which she'd carried in her memory for so long. The daughter she remembered was a child. A little girl. A carefree, innocent and inexperienced little girl. Yet, a woman sat before her. A woman who had experienced pain, disappointment and love. Mary's youthful naivety had transformed into an awareness of the world around. Catherine knew that she must reconcile herself with that, changes came inexorably. Mary was now a wife and a mother. More, she was mistress of Bradgate and the Duchess of Suffolk. She could ask her mother for advice, but she didn't owe her the obedience she once had. Mary was Charles' wife; her obedience was his to command now.

"My child, my dear, dear child, you've become a grown woman." Catherine smiled and kissed Mary's forehead, "You chose wisely: you strove to keep the peace. Any mother would be proud to have such a daughter, and I am no exception."

"I love you Mother and I thank you"

"Thank me? Whatever for?"

"For loving me, for caring for me, for choosing Charles to be my husband," Mary blushed slightly at those last words and Catherine felt peace blooming deep inside her broken soul. Her daughter was happy.

* * *

"The whore is with child" William Brereton announced as soon as Ambassador Chapuys seated himself at their table.

"Are you certain?" the worried ambassador wrinkled his forehead. That was unfortunate news. A healthy child now, even a girl, could give the Boleyns the upper hand and endanger Mary and her child.

"Yes, her ladies tell me she hasn't bled for two months. The midwives confirmed the pregnancy last week, but King Henry has decided wait with announcing it publicly till she feels the first movements of the child."

Chapuys frowned, weighing up this new information.

"Let me kill her," William begged, his deep brown eyes shining with fanatical fire. He'd always dreamt of being a martyr for his faith, and killing the one whom he blamed for all that had happened seemed to be the noblest of acts.

"No!" the ambassador hissed in protest,"You are not allowed to act! The entire blame would fall on my master or your Queen!"

William sighed, his desire to kill Anne wrestling with his will to protect England's rightful Queen. His haggard face solidified in an expression of concentration mixed with confusion.

"What I am supposed to do then?"

"Observe," Eustace instructed his loyal spy, "Pregnancy is a start, but that's all it is. It's not a delivery of a healthy son."

* * *

Anne joyfully acknowledged another courtier. The entire attention of the court was yet again focused on her. Everybody avidly followed her every move and awaited confirmation of her possible pregnancy. With the chance of another child, another chance of a son, everybody had forgotten about the previous disappointment, and even about that bastard and her son who were buried deep in the country. Now, as she had been once before, she was the most important, because it was her body that carried the heir to the throne.

She smiled happily at her brother as he approached the table, before noticing his grim face.

"Why the gloomy face brother? Is Jane annoying you?" Jokingly she patted his arm.

George bent down to her to avoid eavesdropping, "The King is trying to form an alliance with France. He wants to get Elizabeth engaged to the Duc de Anjou or even the Dauphin," Anne nodded, beaming. Henry's attempts were fulfilling one of her most secret desires. Being betrothed to the dauphin of France, or even his younger brother, would shore up Elizabeth's position. It would mean that no one would ever dare to question Elizabeth's right to the throne and status.

"I know about that, brother and I fully support the King's efforts."

"And do you also know that Henry appointed Brandon as the one who will welcome the envoy of the King of France and bring him to court? More importantly, that the new Duchess will act as His Excellency's hostess during his stay in England?"

Anne's face solidified in an angry grimace.

* * *

 


End file.
